I'd Like To Believe
Chapter 5: You Were There By My Side On The Frontline
A/N: I AM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG I AM SUCH A BAD WRITER FORGIVE ME. ;A; Still don't own MPAS.
Warning: Blood and some emotional scenes.
It had taken all but a moment for Peabody to formulate an idea, approaching winds whipping the sounds of grim celebration and the scent of innocent blood into his face. He had turned Charis away from the sickening scene, but his effort appeared to be too little too late; she continued babbling softly, caught up in a fugue of shock.
Peabody hoped the Spartans were as dumb as they seemed; the faster he had them under his thumb, the quicker he could tend to her. She was just about the only sane companion he had at the time, and he was loath to lose such a commodity to the cruelty of the men. Adjusting his glasses, he stood, gave one last sympathetic glance to Charis, and marched towards the soldiers.
The fools reveled in the wind, taking its sudden appearance as justification for the murder they had just encouraged. Among them, young Neoptolemus joined in the laughter, but his eyes were empty, and the congratulatory pats of his comrades nearly knocked him over several times. None of them spared a single moment to look at the result of their superstitions, slowly bleeding out into the dirt. By now, it was likely seeping into the soil, right above the grave of Achilles. Her blood was washing over her lover's fatal heel, while his little boy was praised as a murderer above.
Darkly poetic, and a bit distracting. Though he was lost to the image for a moment, Peabody returned abruptly to the situation at hand when some of the mens' discussion reached his ears.
"-such wind from this little wench, imagine what we'd get for the blood of the prince-"
Astyanax. They were already planning on killing the baby. The dog growled, fury at the thought forcing his words to erupt out in a commanding tone.
"CEASE THIS FOOLISH REVELRY."
It was like he flipped a switch. The men were silent and facing the interruption in a blink, confused. It was unusual to be berated after a sacrifice by anyone other than Charis or a lady of Hera; Agamemnon would simply distance himself, or (in the days before his sudden allegiance to Charis) join in. Now this stranger, who had appeared from nowhere to deny his son the glory of the battle, seemed displeased at their behavior.
The only sound remaining was the whistling of the gale, the sobbing of Queen Hecuba, and the soft ramblings of Charis. Peabody had their attention; now he just needed their respect. Or fear, if it came to that. His voice was a bit softer now, but still laced with disgust. "Are you proud of yourselves?"
The men were taken aback, and whispered amongst themselves. One spoke up, with the defiant bravado of a child who thought of a clever retort against an authority figure. "Of course! The gods are pleased with our work!"
Oh good, appealing to humanity didn't work. Time for the nuclear option. "You call this pleased? You murdered an innocent girl; the gods are furious!"
And now the stranger was speaking for their gods? Blasphemous. "And who are you to decide that?"
"I," Peabody declared, putting on his best tone of authority, "am a speaker for the gods, sent from Olympus, to warn the Achaeans of the coming danger."
The hushed whispers were a LOT less hushed, and the sobbing Queen had paused in her lamentations to stare curiously at the dog. Off in the distance, lightning touched down, followed eventually by faint thunder. The storm was moving closer, as was validation. He just had to stall.
"My son, Shermanicus, and I, are emissaries of Zeus! It was our duty to warn the Spartans to refrain from harming the surviving citizens of Troy, but my son was called back early. Did none of you question a talking animal?"
There were a few noises of dim acceptance from the crowd, and for a moment Peabody had to marvel at the caliber of people he was forced to deal with. But there were still dissenters amongst them. They had to be convinced. "Why would Zeus send a child and a talking dog-"
There. Lightning strike, a few miles offshore. Cue the theatrics. "YOU DARE QUESTION A MESSENGER OF ZEUS?"
His sentence was punctuated with an oppressive crack of thunder, causing the assembled group to jump in fright. Even Charis was shocked back into reality, peeking out from behind the wall in curiosity.
He hoped she would stay lucid; one less problem in a sea of them.
"Do you see what you've done? This is not a good sailing wind, it's a storm brought on to sink your ships as punishment! The princess was an unwanted sacrifice, and now you must pay the price!"
The Achaeans were now frantic and terrified, backing away from Peabody in fright. Neoptolemus looked like he was about to start crying again; he'd have to confront and reassure the boy later. For now, he had one last trick up his sleeve. He scanned the crowd, pulled a sly grin, and pointed dramatically at Odysseus. "Do you still doubt me?"
The short Ithacan man, suddenly the center of attention, frantically shook his head, trying to deny any offense, but Peabody continued. "Doubt all you wish, but changing the truth of my warnings is as impossible as moving your marriage bed from the room!"
The other men were befuddled by the statement, but Odysseus let out an undignified shriek of panic at the mention of his secret bed. "He speaks the truth! He is a messenger of the gods!"
The sight of a cadre of hardened soldiers immediately devolving into panicked hysterics was too funny to so closely follow the death of a young girl; Peabody could almost feel the emotional whiplash in his bones. He made a mental note to order a proper burial for Polyxena, but first...
He noted another lightning bolt (closer now, the storm was almost upon them) and cleared his throat loudly. The call for attention was picked up by a thunderclap loud enough to shake the ground slightly. As it trailed off, silence set it, giving Peabody a receptive and fearful (save an intrigued Charis) audience. He glanced at them over the rim of his glasses, cocking an eyebrow and maintaining an air of superiority. "You have already defied the will of the gods, and there is no stopping this storm. However," he added, shooting a quick glance to Charis, "there is a way to repent."
He saw the gears turning in his companion's head, and was relieved to see the realization hit. The fire in her eyes relit, and she strode to take her place next to Peabody. When she spoke, there was still a near-unnoticeable tremor in her voice, but it still boomed with authority. "Peabody's son has already returned to Olympus, but without their chariot, he can not do the same. We have plans to construct a new chariot, but with only the two of us, it would take too long. If you wish to appeal to the favor of the gods, then help us to return their messenger."
The men jumped at the chance to redeem themselves to their deities, gathering around to receive their instructions. Several teams were formed; some to collect yak's fat, some to assemble enough building materials for the structure of the replacement WABAC, and some to scrape as much rust as possible from whatever surfaces they could find. As they filtered out to complete their respective tasks, only Peabody, Charis, Hecuba, and Neoptolemus were left. By that point, the rain had finally blown in. The bloody sand pooled at their feet, threatening to rise above their sandals.
Hecuba was numb to the rainfall, sitting in the dirt beside her fallen daughter. Peabody moved to place a comforting hand on the fallen queen's shoulder, and Charis looked away, unsettled by the sight of a mourning mother. Instead, she went to Neoptolemus, who stared blankly at his own feet. The Spartan grabbed the boy's shoulder, and lifted his chin to force eye contact. Despite her rigid posture and stern gaze, her voice was gentle as she nodded towards Hecuba. "Stay with her. Care for her. If she asks for assistance in burying Polyxena, do it without hesitation. Find other survivors, and you lay the princess to rest with your father with every bit of dignity you'd afford your own queen."
The boy nodded quickly, and she let him go to sit with Hecuba. The two sat there silently, and Peabody and Charis took their leave for the temple. With the Achaeans at work, they were free to begin their own search. After the escape of the handmaidens and the disappearance of the children, the city was put under heavy guard. Somewhere in Troy, waiting for the chaos to recede, Princess Adromache and little baby Astyanax were hidden away.
If Charis couldn't find them and smuggle them out, the child would be killed. Even with his divine deception, it would be nigh impossible for Peabody to prevent the death of a potential heir and seeker of vengeance. There was nothing to do but rescue them.
"How did you know?"
Peabody glanced up at Charis. "The lightning; you can see the strike before you hear the thunder, and if you know the distance you can time it-"
"No, I mean...what was that about Odysseus's bed?"
"Ah. That. His marriage bed was carved out of a still living tree. You'd have to uproot it to move the bed. It's another anecdote that's become popular in my time."
Charis blinked, then shook her head, chuckling. "A bed carved out of a live tree. Only Odysseus."
The creeping sense of doubt that had reared it's ugly head not a day earlier, banished by the discovery of her husband's death and the whirlwind of tragedy afterwards, began to flow back. It was hard to pinpoint the exact cause of the unease, but it was ever present. Nonetheless, she forced it out of her mind. They had work to do.