Bouquet of Narcissus

"O mighty gods, sovereigns of the heavens, Step forth from your resplendent abode and behold Behold our towering walls, behold your faithful flock The king, ensconced in his fortress grand and stout, Unveil your gaze and witness Witness our fortress, witness your subjects Witness the grim heaps of fallen beneath our sturdy ramparts Countless orphaned children roam the streets of Troy, Laborers' limbs severed, women's tears run dry Behold, the corpses turn to dust under the azure sky Ancestors, do not dwell in solitude, for another may fall in the next breath Attend your rendezvous with sighs and ashes, with fervent tears The banquet of the underworld awaits Mortals, what do we await? Do we await the advent of heroes? Or do we await the mercy of divinity? The goddess of harvest has forsaken us, Spring shall never grace our lands again." The resounding melodies reverberated within and beyond the city walls, echoing through the expanse of Troy. Nestled upon a vast plain, ensconced by mountains and the boundless sea, Troy boasted the quintessential landscapes and climate of inland regions. The regal city of Troy, partitioned into inner and outer precincts, stood divided by a formidable wall, towering and impenetrable. The grand citadel, ever-expanding, began to manifest its stately form, reaching skyward in majestic splendor. As described by the bard, this citadel boasted unparalleled grandeur, adorned with exquisite jeweled embellishments, gleaming with white jade lacquer, and adorned with gilded and bronzed artifacts adorning its entirety. Towering marble columns and terraces adorned with blossoms lent it the semblance of a celestial garden. Narcissus, astride his steed, ventured forth from the palace into the outskirts, where the strains of song reached his ears. Inquiring, "Are they lacking sustenance, clothing, shelter?" he sought counsel from his childhood companion, a loquacious parrot. "They languish in idleness and sloth, in need of motivation," retorted the avian confidant. Perplexed, Narcissus approached the laborers, drawing closer to the segment of the city wall under construction, where the workers' harmonious chants resounded with vigor and rhythm. "The goddess of harvest has forsaken us, and the bounty of spring has vanished like wisps of smoke." As Narcissus absorbed the haunting melody, a gentle breeze lifted his veil, unveiling his striking countenance. His beauty, like the ripest grapes of midsummer—luminous and succulent; akin to polished shells in mountain streams—pure and translucent; reminiscent of winter's pine and cypress atop snow-capped peaks—towering and resplendent. His allure captivated the laborers, causing their voices to falter, their hands to still, as they gazed upon him in awe, forgetting their task and the ballad alike, enraptured by his ethereal visage. Yet, as the veil once more concealed his features, a collective sigh of regret rippled through the crowd. "Curses! Slackers once more!" bellowed a voice, shattering the stunned silence. In that moment, overseers arrived—fifteen or sixteen robust men, their bare torsos glistening, adorned with broad hats and brandishing long whips. They berated the workers sternly: "You sluggardly, covetous wretches, hasten your labor! Today's repast shall elude you, Your kin, spouses, and offspring still depend on your toil, The infirm and aged, languishing at home, cry out for sustenance; sloth is a shameful disgrace. Pilfering coinage defiles the king's honor and spurns the sanctity of life. Dreaming of unearthly treasures, are you? Fools! Know that such spoils are reserved for the valiant alone. Cast aside your avarice and grievances, The sun rides high, tarry not; set to work, laying bricks and hauling stones for our city's ramparts. Remember, it is by divine grace and the king's benevolence that you yet draw breath. The harvest season has waned, reserves dwindle. If not for toil, how will you sustain your kin? Up now! You, construct the lofty stairs; you, pour the mortar; and you, fortify the wall! Rouse yourselves, sons of Troy—move!" The clarion call resounded, and the rhythmic toil commenced anew! For the imperishable ramparts, for the ancestral abodes that stood firm for generations, these diligent laborers embarked upon their arduous tasks! Under the relentless chastisement and lash of their overseers, they toiled on. Returning to reality from the enchanting vision of the young man, they found him vanished, leaving only a wistful memory. "Alas," sighed many, as the fleeting beauty of the moment dissipated, and they resumed their duties. Meanwhile, Narcissus ambled leisurely to the bustling marketplace on his pony. Perched atop his shoulder, a small green parrot chirped incessantly, extolling the delights of the cakes, the quality of the wine, and the aroma of the roasted lamb being sold nearby, entreating Narcissus to indulge its cravings. Ignoring the parrot's pleas, Narcissus dismounted and waded through the throngs of vendors, women, and children bustling about. Peasant women, adorned with headscarves, haggled over sparse provisions, their baskets laden with fruits, shells, and bird eggs. Laughter of children filled the air as they frolicked among the stalls. Intrigued by the vibrant spectacle, suffused with the aroma of culinary delights, Narcissus reminisced about his solitary life in the forest for sixteen years, nurtured by nymphs and elves, surrounded by streams and nectar. Although occasionally vexed by the adoration of the forest inhabitants, he cherished every moment. However, a year ago, his mother whisked him away from the forest to the Trojan Castle, where he silently acclimated to his new life, embraced by the princes of Troy for his beauty. Yet, an occasional pang of longing for his sylvan sanctuary prompted him to venture beyond the palace walls. The persistent parrot cajoled him into purchasing a succulent roasted lamb leg with his exquisite shells. Yet, before the parrot could partake, the lamb was pilfered from his grasp. Incensed, the parrot urged Narcissus to give chase, leading them on a frenzied pursuit through the bustling crowd to Mount Ida, where the thief ultimately eluded them, leaving them empty-handed but sated with adventure. The little green parrot, consumed by anger, pecked ferociously at the thief's face, drawing blood. Sensing the escalating violence, Narcissus intervened, gently restraining the parrot, "Enough, Little Green. Cease your assault." Dismounting from his horse, he addressed the thief, "Please return my shells." Cowering on the ground, the thief pleaded pitifully, "Kind sir, I did not pilfer your shells. Hunger drove me to snatch the lamb. I beg your forgiveness." Perplexed, Narcissus lifted his veil, gesturing towards his abdomen, "Yet, I witnessed you concealing my shells within." The thief's gaze flickered, seemingly captivated by Narcissus's beauty, before reluctantly producing the hidden shells, extending them towards him, "Here, take them." However, in a sudden betrayal, he lunged at Narcissus, intent on seizing the foal— But Narcissus remained steadfast, his countenance marred by smudges, his demeanor stern, "I am greatly displeased." With a swift motion, he subdued the thief, forcing him to the ground. The parrot, deploying its unique talents, harried the thief relentlessly, rendering him helpless. Amidst his bitter cries, the thief succumbed to unconsciousness. Narcissus beckoned to the parrot and commanded, "Enough." The thief wept, and after a moment's consideration, Narcissus produced two shells, offering them in restitution, "These are all I can spare." Grasping the shells, the thief fled into the distance.