Seeds: Volume Two (27 page)

     As ordered as the universe was, chaos also existed. Balance could not exist without two opposing forces, and Fate was no exception. Sometimes, the cosmic threads that guided destiny moved on their own, turning into a different direction than had been laid out for it, much like a vine that did not wish to grow in the path that its gardener had established for it despite careful guidance and pruning.

     “Look at that,” Klotho whispered, pointing to a thin, almost invisible thread. It was barely noticeable amidst the glittering and multicolored strands that surrounded it or the blue thread that it was already attached to, and was little more than a wisp, as if it were but the phantom image of a thread. Many such threads existed, appearing briefly on the tapestry before disappearing, having no effect on the other strands within the web. The only thing that set this one apart from many of its ilk was the longer, stronger thread that clung to it tenaciously. Such instances had happened in the past, but these thin wisps of threads always slipped away, no matter what was there to hold onto them. This particular thread was about to break away and fade into nothingness. But now, a bright, shining golden-green thread was also intertwined with this little strand. Such a thread was not mortal in origin, and clearly belonged to a goddess, for the threads of the gods were always far longer and radiant than anybody else's.

     “Fascinating,” Lakhesis murmured, gazing intently at the configuration of threads that surrounded it.

     As this shining cord wrapped around the other two threads, an extraordinary thing happened. This little wisp of a strand – a short and weak life indeed – actually started to lengthen, and its end – the part of life that had not been lived yet – became thicker, taking on a faint green hue, safely nestled between the green-gold of the new thread, and the soft blue thread that it was attached to.

     “The loss of one child has saved the life of another,” Atropos stated. She made no move to cut the newly grown thread, and let it be, leaving it to find its place within the cosmic web.

Chapter XXXIV

o0o

     Metaniera smiled wistfully as she stood in the doorway, watching as Doso sang softly to Demophon. The baby was quiet, nestled against his nurse's chest. It had just been a couple of days, and already Demophon was a calmer baby. Knowing that her child was under the care of a competent and caring individual allowed her to relax somewhat and to be able to better concentrate on the rest of her family and kingdom. Just now, she had been able to enjoy supper with her family, and talk about various matters uninterrupted by the pained wails of her son.

     Doso looked up, a smile on her wrinkled features.

     “He has been a good boy. A bit of fussing, but nothing that some singing cannot take care of.”

     “How are you able to manage so well?” Metaniera asked.

     “Oh, you raise enough children and grandchildren, you learn a thing or two. They always responded well to my voice, so I saw no reason to not try singing to Demophon.”

     “I wish I could sing as well.”

     “Oh, my lady, everyone has their own talents. It does not mean you are any less of a mother. Is that right, Demophon? You know your mother loves you very much?”

     To Metaniera's surprise, she actually heard a soft giggle from the child. It was a small sound, barely two gurgling laughs, but she found herself floored. She had never heard her baby laugh!

     “He looks about ready to settle down for the night,” Doso stated.

     “I think I will spend some time with my daughters. It has been a while since I sat down with them.”

     “Certainly. We will be waiting here. Go, enjoy yourselves.”

     Metaniera smiled before disappearing from the doorway. Demophon was quiet for several moments, and his nurse was about to put him back in the cradle when he started fussing again.

     “Hmm, what's wrong?” she asked, drawing the child back to her bosom. “Are you hungry?”

     She shifted around, adjusting her cowl and chiton. With a deft movement, she exposed a breast that contrasted sharply with her wrinkled face. The infant latched onto a full and plump tit, pressing his little face against the warm mound and sucking the nourishing milk that issued from it.

     Demeter let out a low sigh of satisfaction. It had been years since Kora had been weaned from her breast, a decision that had been made on the girl's part despite her mother's insistence that she continue breast-feeding. It grieved Demeter that her daughter resisted breast-feeding attempts, insisting that she was not a baby. Children grew up too quickly...

     Since Demeter was the Goddess of Bounty, she could produce any kind of bounty upon command, and for Demophon, her breast-milk flowed afresh. It comforted her immensely to feel that small suction on her breast, and she relaxed, letting the babe have his fill. She cooed softly as she stroked his hair, cradling him close to keep him warm as she stared distantly at the small fire that danced in the hearth.

     The baby smacked his lips contentedly after he had his fill. Demeter smiled as she covered herself up before lightly poking the baby's arms. He giggled and waved his arms – something he had not done in a long time – and she continued, letting him grab her fingers on occasion. His grip was weak, but at least he was trying to hold onto her. Before, he had not had the strength to even reach for anything.

     Carefully, she unwrapped him and tickled his feet. There was not much movement, but he did giggle and squirm around. This activity tired him quickly, and Demeter wrapped him up again, placing him in the cradle as she sang to him. He slept soundly, his breathing slightly shallow but otherwise steady.

     She moved to the loom, resuming her work. Though she wasn't as proficient as her elder sister at the art of the loom, she was still very skilled at the craft, and often used weaving as a distraction. She would sit at the loom and simply let her fingers dance along the threads. Kora had never cared much for weaving, and would often sneak away when she had been left alone to weave. And when she did weave, she made her fabric as plain as possible, not wishing to spend the extra time in weaving patterns, so as to complete her task more quickly. No matter how many times Demeter had tried to encourage or scold her daughter, Kora never showed any passion or affection for the craft, which was disappointing because women should learn how to weave. The domestic arts were indispensable!

     But oh, if she could see her daughter again, she would just hug her close! The Underworld was a terrifying place, and she dreaded to imagine what her poor baby must be going through. It was simply unfair that Zeus and Hades had conspired against her over the welfare of her own daughter! What was this world coming to if a mother was not allowed to care for her own child?

     She started working the loom more furiously, pouring her frustrations into the process, her hands moving rapidly across the fabric as she worked row after row.

     “Doso?
Doso!
” she heard Metaniera say, and looked up, snapped out of her furious reverie.

     “Pardon me, my lady. I was so intent on my work.” It felt odd to speak to a mortal this way, but Demeter was intent on keeping her guise.

     “There is no need for pardons, Doso. I am just here to take Demophon. Please, weave for as long as you like. We have more material in the storeroom, if you like. Enjoy your evening.”

     “I will.” Demeter nodded slowly, gazing at Metaniera as she scooped her slumbering child from the cradle.

o0o

     Demophon barely stirred in her arms, but his breathing was even, much to her relief. Metaniera glanced down at him as she retired to the bedchamber she shared with her husband. Celeus stood by the window, wearing a warm robe over his tunic. As she entered, he glanced at her, and she was warmed by the affection in his eyes.

     Rarely did happy marriages last, especially royal ones, but she was lucky. Even now, twenty-five years after she married the then-Prince of Eleusis, he looked at her with the same affection that he had on their wedding night. His eyes never strayed to a servant girl or city maiden, and he was also an attentive father to their children, sons and daughters alike. When it was discovered that Demophon was sickly, he hadn't made the decision to leave him outside to die, like the Spartans would have.

     “How is he?” Celeus whispered as Metaniera set him down in the carved wooden cradle.

     “Quiet and sleeping well. I do not know how Doso does it, but he actually looks content,” Metaniera said. Celeus walked over to the bundled-up baby, noting the placid expression on Demophon's face. His cheeks were still hollow, but he was no longer so pale.

     “That he does.” He stared down at Demophon for a moment, wondering if this meant that perhaps, just perhaps, his son might get better. Children died every day, that was a fact of life, but that didn't mean he liked it or wanted to accept it. No child should die. He gently tucked the blankets under his son's chin, a fond smile flashing for a moment on his face. Certainly he had been surprised when his daughters brought home an old woman, but the laws of hospitality were to be honored, and it looked as if their kindness was being repaid. Metaniera liked Doso, and he saw no reason to not let the old woman stay. She had a kind appearance, though he found himself slightly unnerved by her vivid green eyes.

     “The baby is getting his rest. We should, as well,” Celeus whispered, cupping his wife's cheek with a hand, giving her a loving smile. The kingdom was beleaguered with many worries, among these the meager harvest. Already the family was rationing their own food, and Metaniera had plans to hide some of this year's harvest in their storeroom. Hopefully, he could find a way to budget the food for the city and see if they could reach some sort of compromise with the bandits outside the city. Just now, he had been hearing that other cities were having disastrous harvests. When he was nestled in bed with his wife, he could allow himself to set aside his worries for a while.

     “Yes.” Her eyes gleamed in the firelight, and he smiled. Even now, with crow's feet around her eyes and gray in her black hair, she was still beautiful to him. She touched her hand to his own, and returned his smile.

o0o

     Abas slunk around the Palace grounds. It was easy to do so, since most of the soldiers were stationed around the perimeter of the Palace walls, leaving the rest of the Palace less guarded. He was familiar with the layout, having grown up here with his father as the former gardener.

     He didn't like it here. The guards looked down at him, and the Princesses would not give him any notice. He was the kind of person who was perpetually unhappy with his lot, and always found something to complain about. It mattered not that he had three square meals a day, a roof over his head, walls to be safe behind, and a steady job that had been handed to him for virtue of being the son of the former holder of the job. He often entertained fantasies of being rich and powerful, of telling others what to do instead of being told what to do.  He would have girls finer than the snaggle-toothed kitchen maid who had laughed him out of the pile of straw she slept on because he hadn't been well-endowed, and had 'ended' so quickly.

     Of course, if he hadn't been such a self-centered person, he might have realized that Caliroe would have been considerably more forgiving of his physical shortcomings f he had been an attentive lover and had listened to her instead of focusing on his own pleasure. But because he believed that nothing that happened was ever his fault, he had convinced himself that it was because Caliroe was an uppity little bitch. Just like Celeus's daughters.

     He groused to himself silently as he crept around the pillars, thinking about the small stash of treasure he had managed to steal over the last few years. The Royal Family of Eleusis was by no means immensely wealthy, especially compared to other city-states such as Thebes or Sparta. Their income was modest, and most of it went back out to various things needed for the city, including its army. But once in a while, he was able to pilfer a coin, and even had a couple of earrings and necklaces among other trinkets. He had gained no small amount of pleasure from overhearing Thalassa lamenting the loss of her pearl necklace the other day. He had carefully buried his stash throughout the garden; the last place he was certain anyone would look.

     He knew that it was a risk. If he had been caught stealing anything, it could and would warrant an execution, or if he was lucky, exile or some kind of disfigurement. But he enjoyed the thrill, and the perverse pleasure to be gained from lashing out at the royal family in this way. He felt no sympathy at all to Metaniera for having a sickly baby. He didn't understand why she had to cry over it. He had seen Demophon a couple of times, and didn't see why anyone should make such a fuss over a baby that was going to die anyway.

      After stealing some dates from the kitchen storeroom – something that was frowned upon because Celeus insisted that everybody within the household ration their food – he slid out to the large inner courtyard. The fountain no longer spouted water, but the pool was still almost full. He drew from it to water the gardens, and was glad for that convenience. He hated doing any more work than was absolutely necessary.

     As he casually munched on one of the dates, Abas noticed a cloaked figure slowly moving along the edge of the courtyard almost like a ghost. The crescent moon above offered limited light, but he had been lurking around in the darkness long enough to be able to see adequately. Oh, it was that old woman that Thalassa had brought in. What was the point in letting her take care of that stupid sick baby, and feeding her when they were already on rations? Celeus was a daft old fool. Had Abas been king, he would have left the baby to die and kicked the old woman out. Bah. People were so stupid.

     “What are you doing out here?” Abas asked, barely holding back the contempt in his tone.

     “You are the gardener, are you not?” the old woman replied. Before Abas could answer, she continued, “I am merely out for a little stroll. Have no mind of me.”

     “Out for a stroll? This is not your place. I thought you were here to take care of Demophon.” He crossed his arms.

     “Certainly, but he is with his mother now, and I do need to stretch out my legs. Not my place, you say? Big words from a lowly gardener.”

     “Lowly?” Abas spat out, “My father and grandfather were gardeners here. You are just a useless old woman that Thalassa picked up from outside. You are lucky that the King and Queen let you stay here!”

     “You have quite a mouth on you, hmm?”

     “I will not stand here and let an old lady scold me,” he retorted hotly.

     “I suppose you were never taught to respect your elders.”

     “What is it to you?” Abas didn't know why, but something about the old lady unnerved him. He felt a sudden urge to strike Doso, or chase her away with a rake.

     “I am shocked that such kind people like Celeus and Metaniera have a person such as you in their midst. You do not seem like a happy or grateful person to me.”

     “Mind your tongue.”

     “Ha! This coming from the man who has the temerity to look at the royal family the way he does! You do not care about anybody but yourself. That family has been through a lot, yet they have such kindness in their hearts as to let you remain here, or put themselves on rations when they ask it of their servants, or welcome a poor woman who lost her child, into their home.”