Page 9 of Odette's Vow

She smiled at him – actually smiled. Chin lifted, she was looking him squarely in the eye.

“Odette, this is Diomedes. A fellow lord and general.” Once again, my tone was harsher than I’d intended. I coughed to pretend it was something other than my annoyance that she would smile at him but revolt at me.

“Welcome Lord Diomedes. Please, won’t you come and sit? We have fresh lamb with bread tonight, and plenty of wine, of course.”

Diomedes sat. I followed. Odette poured his wine first – as was custom – before she threw him another smile. She was charming him, I realised, and my blood heated in anger at the thought. Inviting Diomedes had definitelybeen one of my stupider ideas, and she was making the most of this opportunity.

“Well, wine is what we need, woman! This war against the Trojans is becoming more tedious with every passing day. We have your man here to thank, of course.” Diomedes gestured wildly with wine in hand, almost spilling it right across the table before throwing it down his throat.

Odette looked at me. I offered a grimace in return as she refilled Diomedes’ already empty goblet.

“And why is that, Lord Diomedes?”

“He hasn’t told you the story already?” Diomedes threw me a shocked look. “Why is it that you don’t brag about your most marvellous of ideas? Is it because, perhaps, you’re ashamed of them? Will you finally admit that you don’t always get it right?”

I chose to smile as I lifted my cup to my lips. “Not a chance, my friend.”

I glanced over at Odette, deliberately drawing out the moment as I sipped my wine. I wanted her to feel the weight of my regard, to understand that I was fully aware of her scheming, and that I would win whatever dangerous game she was trying to play with me.

“Well, Odette, let me tell you how this all came to pass, shall I? How we ended up on your shores.”

“Certainly, Lord Diomedes.”

There was no falter in her voice. Her shoulders didn’t tighten at the horrors she had been through since the war had touched her village. Her voice wasn’t tight with pain or guilt. She was either the perfect hostess, or the perfect liar.

Yet, Diomedes was so pleased with her, he pouredhera wine before he patted the cushion beside him for her to sit on, and Odette complied.

“Our Odysseus was right there when the stunning Helen of Troy was to be married. Now, you know how men can be – fighting tooth and nail over a beautiful woman! Well, Odysseus, ever the strategist, hatched a brilliant plan. He proposed that Helen herself should decide. Can you imagine such a thing? Letting a woman choose her own husband! It was nothing short of genius. By letting Helen choose, he cleverly sidestepped the inevitable brawls and potential wars that would have erupted among the kings vying for her favour.”

He paused for effect, his focus lingering on Odette.

“Do you see? By making Helen’s choice the deciding factor, each king had to swear a blood oath to respect her decision and protect her from any man who might try to take her from her chosen husband. It was a fail-safe against any disputes. And who did Helen choose? Our very own Menelaus. So, when your bold young prince, Paris, came along and snatched her away, we wereall bound by our oaths to uphold our word. Even Odysseus here was bound by that oath.”

Diomedes let out a belch before he foraged through the spread of food with his giant hands. Wine and exhaustion created a heady combo that would still not deny hunger. Despite the distraction, my gaze remained fixed on Odette as he ate.

Her eyes, hawklike in both manner and colour, flitted back and forth as if she were trying to piece something together. Eventually, she reached her conclusion.

“You let her choose?” Odette asked me.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And of course, you had already sneakily arranged to be married to her cousin before the rest of the men had even arrived, so what did you care?” Diomedes added between bites.

“I care very much about being away from my wife now,” I managed through gritted teeth.

I waited for Odette to ask about my wife, but instead she kept her attention on Diomedes. “Tell me, Lord Diomedes, how long will the Greek Army remain here?”

“Oh, a while yet, I should imagine.”

“So certain?”

She sounded shocked. Diomedes was still scarfing down food, too busy to reply, but Odette wouldn’t tear her eyes away from him. The knot in my chest grew larger until I felt myself wanting to growl.

“It was foreseen by the soothsayer Calchas before we arrived,” I butted in.

She glanced my way – a mere acknowledgement she’d heard me – before turning to him once again. “But haven’t you been on Trojan shores for seven years already?”

Diomedes grunted. “With little to show for it.”

---