They spent the afternoon refining Ares's plan and looked forward to playing it out soon. Gods though they were, they had very little in the way of patience when it came to interfering in human affairs.
* * *
The red bull won every fight and men were now coming from distant villages to bring a bull for a contest. Paris remained modest as to his bull's prowess, and rather than brag, he issued challenges and welcomed all who responded. On an especially bright morning, the expected man did not appear, but a cream-colored bull stood waiting in the enclosure. Thinking it was the bull the missing herdsman had offered, Paris led Red into the ring.
Now used to the game, Red moved toward his opponent, sniffing the air, and pawing the earth. He lowered his head, but before he could charge, the cream-colored bull rammed him with a head-clash that shook the earth and brought an admiring crescendo of praise from the crowd.
Oenone stood at Paris's elbow. "Who owns the white bull?" she asked.
"I'm not certain, but it looks as though it will be a fierce fight." He leaned over the top railing for a better view. Men near him shouted encouragement to Red as well as the newcomer. Unmindful of the cheers, the bulls locked horns, shoved and shoved back, bellowed deep threats and kept at their battle far longer than the other bouts had lasted.
"There's something wrong here," Oenone cautioned Paris.
Agelaus agreed. "That's no bull I've ever seen, and I fear we'll lose today."
Paris wouldn't admit to being equally worried. Each of the cream-colored bull's head-butts were as damaging as the first, while Red's slowing responses showed he had begun to tire. Paris would have to let the match play out, but when Red finally broke away, he could not blame him.
"That's no ordinary bull," he murmured to his father.
Oenone handed Paris a flower crown. "You must still declare him the winner."
"I will." He waved the crown and let the noise of the onlookers ebb before he called for the owner. When no one stepped forward, he circled the outside of the enclosure to reach the cream-colored bull and dropped the crown over his horns. The crowd cheered and gradually dispersed, but still no one came forward to claim the winning bull.
"We'd not agreed on a bet, so I owe the owner nothing," Paris told his father.
"Take Red home. I expect someone will come for the white bull soon," Agelaus advised.
"Do you want to wait?" Oenone asked.
Paris shook his head. "I've had enough of the village for today." He entered the ring and led Red away on his rope. When he turned back, the cream-colored bull seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, and he rubbed his eyes rather than believe in magic.
* * *
Ares spun the flower crown on his finger. "I won as I'd expected, but the boy was very gracious about the loss."
"But he thought it a fair win," Zeus reminded him.
"It was fair," Ares argued. "I was a bull after all."
"An enchanted bull that could not have been beaten by any earthly beast."
"A minor complaint," Ares insisted. "I took care not to break the red bull's spirit and leave him too frightened to fight another day. He'll never face me as an opponent again, and I doubt there's another bull alive that can best him."
Zeus took a long sip of wine. "What's the boy's name?"
"Paris, and I'll remember him."
"We forget nothing and no one, you fool."
"Perhaps not, but Paris may prove useful someday, and I'll recall where to find him."
Zeus covered a wide yawn and left to find Hera for an enjoyable afternoon.
* * *
That Red had been beaten inspired several men to argue vehemently for a re-match with their own bull. Paris listened, and certain Red would not be beaten again, he agreed. No one had seen who'd come for the pale bull, but Paris wanted him quickly forgotten. The first re-match was with a brindle bull with a twisted horn. He was a sturdy beast, but slow and Red challenged him repeatedly with swift head-butts and deep bellows.
Oenone came close enough to rub against Paris's side. "Red looks very strong today."