[So sorry for the wait. I completely forgot to post this. But here's the next bit! We finally meet Ody's mysterious hero! :D]
For the next few days, Odysseus rested. But now and then, he would sneak out of bed. He wouldn’t leave the room, however. He didn’t want to get caught. Those moments when he was left alone, he would sit at his window and look for the boy. He would catch a glimpse of people in clothes a stable hand would wear, but he was never sure whether or not it was his mysterious savior.
Before Odysseus knew it, four days had passed, and he could walk around the castle again. He still had to wear a sling, but he was no longer confined to his bed. His first order of business was to visit the library.
It was his favorite place in the castle. The high windows always reminded him of a bright clearing in the forest, which was one of his favorite places to play and practice sports. Stories of knights and heroes fighting wars and tricking witches were the best tales, in his opinion. But nothing could beat discovering old books forgotten to time. They always came with accounts of wise kings, ancient battles, and lost knowledge. Not to mention the beautiful art and lettering contained within every book. He would spend weeks exploring the dusty shelves if he had the choice.
But today, Odysseus was searching for something specific. For days, the dream he had after his accident was almost impossible to ignore. It was strange and exciting, but he feared it was just that. A dream. He needed to know it was real.
“What are you looking for again Ody?” Polites asked, standing on a ladder connected to the bookshelf.
“Anything on the old gods,” Odysseus said as he flipped through a book.
“Well, I don't see anything on this shelf…”
“I might have something!” Eurylochus called.
“Perfect! Bring it here!”
Eurylochus brought a large book with dusty pages. Its leather cover was nearly falling apart from wear, but it still bore a golden imprint of an ancient symbol.
Odysseus carefully opened the book and blew the dust off the page. Fortunately, worms didn't get to the book. He flipped each page slowly—afraid to damage it—until finally…
“There!” The prince exclaimed.
“What is it?” Polites asked as he looked over Odysseus’s shoulder.
Odysseus read over the page and found more information on the goddess Athena. He discovered her origin and more about her domain. However, it didn't mention how she was worshiped or what being her mentee meant. Apparently, many of her followers were a cult that had sworn to secrecy.
“It's all I could find, Ody,” Eurylochus shrugged.
“That’s okay… Thanks guys.”
“Ody,” Polite said hesitantly, “I saw some really cool books here. Could I… Could I borrow some?”
Odysseus’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’d have to ask my mom. A lot of these books are pretty old.”
“Okay… I was just wondering because some of these look like they have magic!”
“Magic?” Eurylochus asked, “Come on, Polites. Obnoxious lies are Ody’s job.”
“True, but hey!” Ody exclaimed.
“I’m serious! There are books on potions, spells, curses, cures. Everything!”
“Well… If you really want to read them, I can ask Mom if you can use the library more often.”
“Yes!” Polites said, pumping his fist in the air.
Later that day, Odysseus saw Ctimene going out to play.
“Hey! Kit,” he called. “Did you bring that letter to that stable boy? It’s been days.”
“Well, I didn’t forget if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said with a hand on her hip. “I gave it to him, but he wouldn’t give me an answer. He was super quiet. He wouldn’t even talk to me! Why don’t you go talk to him yourself?”
“Maybe…” Odysseus said, shifting his weight. Is that really the best idea? He doesn’t know the boy.
“Oh, come on! Stop being such a big baby!” She turned Odysseus around and pushed him gently all the way down the hall. She nudged him through the castle, much to his protest, through halls lined with tapestries, down stone staircases, and across the courtyard. Eventually, they came to the servant entrance to the stable hands’ quarters.
It was a simple wooden door with a carving of the royal family’s seal in the middle—nothing out of the ordinary. But Odysseus could feel his heart racing. He stared at that seal for a few moments while Ctimene waited—foot tapping with impatience and arms crossed.
“Go on!” she said, exasperated. “I don't have all day!”
“Alright! Alright,” the prince said.
Odysseus took a deep breath and put his hand on the door. He swallowed even though his mouth felt bone dry, but his hands felt sweaty.
“Don’t rush me! I'm going.” And he finally opens the door.
The door opened into a small dormitory. A row of beds lined the wall on each side of the room, each with a pillow and a small chest underneath. There were small windows near the ceiling that provided just enough light to see, though it would be terrible for writing. Stable hands were in and out of the room—tending to their duties. They looked pretty busy, and Odysseus felt like he was suddenly intruding. But there was no going back now.
He stepped into the room and let the door close behind him.
The heavy door slammed accidentally, and he jumped as the loud noise reverberated through the dimly lit room. Everyone stopped what they were doing—heads snapping to Odysseus. The stable hands stared at him intently and in confusion. None of the royals ever visited staff quarters, much less used the servant entrance to do it.
Odysseus felt like his clothes were wildly out of place—layered, brightly colored, and cleaner than a mountain spring. As everyone stared at him, he noticed their simple shirts and patched pants. The colors—though undyed as they were—were faded by the rigors of outdoor work. They were worn and cut in places to repair other clothes. They had simple shoes or no shoes at all—unwilling or unable to buy something that would just get covered in horse poop, hay, and mud.
The air was so thick it could be cut with a knife, but Odysseus couldn’t back down now. He straightened up as best he could, trying to look taller than he was. He wasn’t sure how important he looked, considering his arm was in a sling.
“I’m looking for someone,” he said in as composed a voice as he could muster, “the boy who saved my life a few days ago.”
No one moved. It was so quiet that one could hear even a feather drop. Finally, the head of the stables—a large man with a farrier's apron and iron tools hanging from his belt—sighed heavily.
“Boy!” he called behind him.
At that moment, a boy with extremely short curly hair and similar dirty, patched clothes peeked around the corner. His hazel eyes were wide and nervous—reflecting what little light came through the stable windows.
“The prince is here to see you, boy,” the stableman said as he nudged the boy forward. “Go.”
The stable boy stumbled forward and walked up to Odysseus. The boy didn’t look the prince in the eye. His gaze was fixed to the floor, and his arms were crossed nervously. The prince thought the boy was intimidated, though his simply being shy wasn't out of the question.
Odysseus couldn't help but try to take in every detail of the boy. He saved his life after all. He noticed the dirt smudged on his face and the shirt far too big for his shoulders—clearly a hand-me-down from an older servant. The boy's eyes were bright in color, but their nature dulled by timidity. His jaw was tight, but despite eating a servant's diet, he still had baby fat on his cheeks. The stable boy had the letter carefully tucked in his belt that held up his clearly too-loose pants. While the two boys stood awkwardly, everyone else went back to work.
“So…” Odysseus said finally. “Did you get my letter?”
The boy nodded but still avoided eye contact.
“Well, have you read it? I want to know your response.”
The boy’s shoulders tensed, and he shook his head. Odysseus watched as he took out the letter from his belt, hugging it close to his chest. The prince noticed that it had been opened, broken wax seal and all.
“But- you opened it,” Odysseus said, tilting his head. “Why didn't you read it?”
Tears gathered in the boy’s eyes. His jaw clenched, and he hugged the letter tighter. He swallowed nervously as he finally looked at the prince, and Odysseus felt something in his chest twinge at the sight.
“You-… can’t read, can you?”
The boy just shook his head—a tear trailing down his cheek.
"Oh, I see." Odysseus shifted his weight from foot to foot. It never occurred to him that the boy couldn't read. He thought everyone could! How could he thank this boy for saving his life? But maybe… He could do something for this boy in return. Something that truly mattered.
"Do you want to learn how to read?"
The boy's eyes widened for a moment. He looks away for a moment. Odysseus thought he looked conflicted and feared the boy would turn him down. But just as doubt was starting to sink into his chest, the stable boy looked up again and nodded.
Odysseus smiled. "Great! I'll teach you!"
The prince opened the door behind him and led the stable boy into the small courtyard outside. The boy looked back as if making sure they were alone and not followed. He stayed close to the door as Odysseus closed it behind them, seemingly afraid of straying too far. Odysseus looked around the courtyard for a stick and found a nice sturdy one in the corner under a tree—perfect for writing in the dirt!
"Okay," Odysseus said when he returned to the boy, "We'll start with the letters."
Odysseus scratched his stick on the ground, writing the letters of the alphabet as simply as possible. The prince went slowly and ensured his words and motions were followed. He told the boy the name of each letter and sang the song his mother taught him to remember their names and sounds—the boy mumbling along. The boy's eyes lit up in wonder when he showed how different letters came together to make more sounds. Odysseus thought he saw a hint of a smile.
"Now let's try something different," Odysseus said as he wrote his name in the dirt. "This is my name. You take the letters you need to write the word you want, see? O-de-say-us."
The boy nodded and reached for the stick. Odysseus let the boy take it, and he was curious about what the boy would do with it. Had he figured out how to write already?
The stable boy tried to write in the dirt like the prince, but the point kept slipping, making his attempts illegible. He pouted and hummed in frustration.
Odysseus put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's harder than it looks. It took me a lot of practice, but it's easier to write if you keep your hand closer to the page when you're starting out.
"Here," Odysseus said, placing the stick higher up in the boy's hand and adjusting his grip. "Try again."
The boy tilted his head at the stick and looked back at the ground. He knelt in the dirt and swiped his hand through the scratches he had made before. His dirt slate clean, the stable boy began again. He looked up at the alphabet Odysseus wrote and back down at his work for each letter—mumbling under his breath and making his way through a word. When he was finally finished, he looked up at the prince.
Odysseus looked over what the boy wrote, and he smiled. The letters were different heights and nowhere near a straight line, but he could read them. They were unfamiliar to the hand that wrote them, but each was recognizable.
"Is this your name?" Odysseus asked.
The stable boy nodded with a smile and finally spoke. "My name is Diomedes."
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