“I apologize that I have to bring this up now, but I am curious. Why are you a soldier? Do you own land?”
“To the north,” he replied.
“How far north?” She asked.
“It takes me several hours to reach there,” he said.
“On what steed?”
“What is this line of questions about?” he asked.
“I hope you take this as a compliment,” she replied, “but no mortal man is as good as you. I have had sex before and I’ve had friends who have related their experiences, and nobody compares to you.”
“Indeed, that is a great compliment,” he replied.
“Nobody!” she said with emphasis. She noted that the look on his face remained unchanged, but he said nothing. “Will Hera become jealous and try to have me killed now?”
The transformation began with a subtle bluish glow that began in his chest and then slowly spread. Slowly, it engulfed his entire body, and he emitted a radiance that outshone any other light in the area. Although his body remained the same, she saw his hair turn slowly white and a beard sprout from his face. The glow then began to recede, but she could clearly see him for who he truly was.
“Zeus,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he replied. “It is a shame that you recognized me so quickly. You deprived yourself of several further encounters, which you would have enjoyed just as much as the one we had tonight.”
“Dammit!” she swore, placing one arm around her breasts in an attempt to cover them and another to the place where he had just penetrated her. “I don’t know whether to drop to my knees in worship or punch you in the face for your deception!” Lycothena reached for her clothing and began to replace her peplos, which now felt awkward on her.
“Tonight you have no need to worship, and please understand that everything that we shared together over the past weeks has been authentic,” he said. “I truly valued our time together. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman, and Euphron did confide that he wanted you taken care of before he passed to the next world.”
“So you rode alongside him, knowing that he was fated to die, so that you could come here and have sex with me?” she asked, the anger rising within her.
“No,” he replied. “It is more complicated than that. Time and space work differently for us than they do for mortals. All of the stories were the memories of a soldier who fought alongside Euphron, and died with him. The tales I related to you about Macedonia were his.”
Sorrow and rage filled Lycothena, but this was momentarily tempered by an idea. “You lied to me and you seduced me. I doubt that, as a mortal, I even had the ability to resist you…”
“You resisted my charms longer than most other mortal women,” Zeus stated.
Lycothena pressed on. “Had my head not been clouded by your presence, I would have never succumbed to desire… not so soon after the death of Euphron. You owe me a favor.”
The expression on Zeus’s face was suddenly less gentle, and slightly menacing. “I would be careful, woman; we gods do not take kindly to demands.”
“Oh, hit me with a bolt of lightning then!” Lycothena yelled. “Don’t you gods have some sense of intimacy? You may have had your way with me, but now that you have, you’ve lost your mystique!”
Zeus said nothing as Lycothena berated him.
“You are the father of the gods. There is something I ask of you.”
“And that would be?”
“Return Euphron to life. Return him to me.”
Zeus sighed, his anger visibly dissipating. “You are a bold mortal, and I appreciate that about you, but there are some things that are beyond my ability. Once a mortal is dead, they become a shadow of their former selves. Even I cannot restore them to what they were during life.”
“Then we have nothing more to discuss. Take me back home,” Lycothena demanded. “You’ve had your conquest, and now I must grieve for the loss of two men.”
“I can relieve the burden of pain at my departure,” Zeus said. “You will remember only joy from our time together.”
Lycothena’s face became hard with anger. “I do not wish for you to influence me any more than you already have,” she replied. “Now, I wish to be home.”
Zeus sighed. “Forgive me. I only wished to bring you happiness.” He extended his hand and touched Lycothena’s temple. The world around her suddenly seemed to melt away and everything became black.
What felt like a moment later, Lycothena opened her eyes. She was lying in her own bed, the sun was out, and she felt more rested than she had in a long while. The memory from the night before was still vivid. She looked down to see that the hastily donned peplos she had been wearing was still wrapped around her body, and her sandals remained on her feet. She ran a hand between her legs and found enough evidence of their encounter that she was thoroughly convinced that it had not been a dream. Rising to her feet, she walked over to the bronze mirror where something unusual caught her eye. Her blond hair was a disheveled mess, but there was a lock of black on her right temple where the god had last touched her.
“You were right,” Lycothena said to Ophene, “About everything.”
A sympathetic smile appeared on Ophene’s face as she hugged her friend. “We need to learn our lessons sometimes,” she commented.
“No, you don’t understand,” Lycothena said. “He was no normal man. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
“You don’t need to rub it in,” Ophene said. “Yesterday after you left, I tried to catch the attention of some of the soldiers and utterly failed, and there you were having the most amazing sex ever.”
“That’s more true than you understand,” Lycothena said. “He wasn’t a man; he was a god.”
“I would watch what you say, lest you anger the gods,” Ophene replied.
“I’m not exaggerating,” Lycothena said. “He was literally Zeus. I saw him change before my eyes.”
“It was a dream,” Ophene said quickly.
Lycothena pulled the new black lock of hair straight for Ophene to examine. “Does this look like a dream? This was the last place where he touched me last night.”
Ophene examined the newly colored hair. “I’ve never known anyone who’s met a god before. The gods have kept to themselves for a very long time now.”
“Yes, but that has not always been so. Remember the stories of Herakles and Perseus, and at least a few dozen others. Perhaps Zeus has grown bored with his silence, or perhaps he truly felt something for me. In either case, what I experienced was real.”
“Then you have become special by being so marked. Zeus favors you.”
“That may be true, but we know that Hera is jealous of his human exploits, and she can’t take her revenge on him, so she punishes the mortals he seduces! I do not wish to suffer the anger of a jealous god.”
Ophene was silent for a moment. “There may be a way to appease her,” she said. “Sacrifice a bull in her name and beg her forgiveness. With luck, she will be feeling merciful.”
“And if not?” Lycothena asked.
“Then pray that you did not offend Zeus last night since he might be the only one who can protect you from her.”
Lycothena buried her face in her hands and pictured the face of Euphron. He was not smiling.
Three seasons passed during which Lycothena wondered when and how Hera would take her revenge. She was a mere mortal and could do nothing to combat the anger of the gods. Would Zeus offer her some sort of protection? She realized that he likely would not, since Hera was his wife, and her interests took precedence over that of a mortal woman. Regardless, nothing unusual happened, other than the swelling of her belly.
On a chilly winter day, surrounded by family, Lycothena gave birth to a boy. Upon pushing him from her loins, she could already tell that he would have a powerful build. He had a full head of dark hair, and his hands and feet were large. She looked him over and something unusual caught her eye. On his left shoulder,
no larger than a quarter of an inch, was a strangely shaped mole that bore an uncanny resemblance to a bull.
“What will you name the boy?” asked Ophene, the newly inducted priestess of Athena.
“He will be called Heliodas,” she replied. “And he will know who his father is.”
Part I
Legends and Memories
Chapter 1
Unresolved Grievances
Twenty-Five years later….
Heliodas and five other soldiers accompanied Demosthenes as they walked toward the war tent. It was a dark cloudy night and an icy wind chilled the group. Demosthenes was the general of Athens, the polis’ most influential orator, and the most qualified negotiator of the Delian League. His iron gray hair had long since receded to the point where he had little more than disheveled wispy tufts atop his head. He was also Heliodas’ second cousin.
Just a few feet ahead was a man wearing a burgundy toga who was accompanied by three more soldiers. Heliodas recognized the man as Lysiemon, who had been appointed by the Delian League to aid Demosthenes in the negotiations. The notion that the man needed any aid was ridiculous, but allowing him to attend was a concession the general made in order to appease the League, which was becoming weary of the amount of power that he wielded. Such had been the case with Pericles when he had led Athens into its current age of greatness, and it was something that Demosthenes humorously tolerated, so long as no serious challenge to his power arose.
Lysiemon was at least a decade younger than Demosthenes, with short brown hair, a trimmed beard, and obvious hunger for power in his eyes. During his time as one of Demosthenes’ elite guards, Heliodas had heard Lysiemon address the League, and he knew that the land holder from Amphipolis was a political enemy. Nevertheless, facing yet another invasion from Macedonia, he suspected that they would stand united on this evening.
“Lysiemon, it is good to see you here,” Demosthenes said.
“And you,” Lysiemon acknowledged. “This situation has been ongoing, but why do you suppose he chose this course, after everything we have given him?”
Demosthenes sighed. “That is what I intend to find out. When he was with us, he was treated well and he received a first-class education. This is a betrayal. I can’t help but wonder what motivates him.”
“Whatever it is, the League looks unfavorably upon the prospect of a war,” said Lysiemon.
And there it is, Heliodas thought, the challenge. The Delian League was in good standing to handle another war against Macedonia, and they would likely emerge victorious in such a conflict. Their motives for opposing such a war were certainly based on little more than political rivalries, grudges, and blatant jealousy of the general’s power. Heliodas was therefore surprised when Demosthenes agreed with him. “I have absolutely no intention to use this meeting to declare war.” He paused for a moment and then added, “Partially because we’re surrounded by Macedonians and I’d like to return to Athens with my head still attached to my neck.”
Lysiemon chuckled and eyed the soldiers. “Surely you don’t fear an army with your polis’ most elite at your side.”
It was a jab at his expense. Heliodas didn’t appreciate it, but this was not the time to act against the smug nobleman, regardless of how badly he wished to bash the man’s nose into his skull. Demosthenes let the comment go unchallenged and instead strode toward the tent. Four Macedonian warriors met them, eying them suspiciously, and beyond them were at least another twenty soldiers lining the walls. There simply were no assurances that this parlay would not go horribly wrong.
The war tent was large, standing more than twice as tall as a man at the center, and a little more than half that around the edges, which were at least seven paces to a side. In the center, seated on a makeshift throne, was a man who exuded a powerful, confident presence. The man was young to command such fierce loyalty from his soldiers. He looked half the age of Demosthenes and a decade younger than Lysiemon. His hair was golden and he had a strong chin, a dark complexion, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a suit of bronze armor that appeared much stronger than that of any of the League soldiers.
“Alexander,” said Demosthenes. “It has been a long time since we last talked.”
“Indeed,” said Alexander, offering his hand. “Be at ease; you are my guests this night.” It was clear that the king was attempting to defuse the obvious tensions in the room, not the least of which was the fact that his guests were surrounded by a force that could easily slaughter them should the negotiations end badly.
“Speaking of guests,” Demosthenes said. “You were a guest in our polis for more than ten years, yet now you march an army south toward our polis and against the League. I have to admit that I’m a bit confused. Do you mean to take all of Greece by force?”
Alexander smiled, but Heliodas could see a predatory look in his eyes. “You fear that your League would be forced to embark upon another costly military campaign to put down our bid for supremacy once more,” Alexander stated. “It is a shame that our two peoples have always been at odds with one another, because I would argue that ultimately what we want is the same.”
“And what would that be?” Demosthenes asked.
“Security and freedom,” Alexander replied simply.
“And how do we threaten your security or freedom? After we defeated Macedonia, we allowed you to return as its rightful ruler,” Demosthenes said. “It was never our intention to subjugate your people or strip your freedom. In fact, once you broke from Sparta, we invited you to join the Delian League.”
Alexander nodded. “Indeed, Athens has done these things, all of which were good. Nevertheless, as the heart of power within Greece, you have failed to create security against the one threat that would deny us all freedom.”
“And which threat would that be? Sparta? Persia? The Etruscans?”
“During my time at the Lyceum, Aristotle taught me one important thing. He said that as a leader of men, I should strive to be just to my people, but treat barbarians with contempt and an utter lack of mercy. A hundred years ago Greece was sacked, along with your fair polis, by an enemy that yet waits to the east. Our own people, the Ionians, revolted, yet Athens and the Delian League did nothing to help our brothers regain their freedom.” Alexander paused, fixing Demosthenes with a steely gaze. “Where you have failed, I intend to succeed. But to do so, I need the support and resources of mainland Greece.”
Heliodas could see the two men become visibly tense, and for good reason. First, Alexander deigned to include his homeland as a part of Greece, which it had never been. Macedonia was a barbaric, backwards land that had somehow managed to build an army strong enough to challenge the Delian League once. His claim of kinship was an insult, but it was one that neither of the two dared challenge if they wished to leave this tent alive.
The larger issue was that Alexander had just given voice to the one threat that had troubled Greece for over a hundred years. The Persians had attacked Athens, attacked their enemies, the Spartans, and after being beaten back, had returned with an even larger force and destroyed many of the cities of Greece. Fortunately the Greek people were so strong-willed that they could not be ruled from afar for long, but they did fear the threat of Persia returning once again, next time wreaking havoc on their restored cities, monuments, and temples.
“You intend to challenge Persia? That is madness!” Lysiemon said vehemently.
Alexander smirked. “Who is this ungracious guest?” he asked.
“Forgive him,” said Demosthenes. “He is here at the behest of the Delian League.”
“So do you represent the League, or does he?” Alexander asked.
There was silence for a moment as the two men of the League exchanged glances. “We both do,” Demosthenes said, “but I am its voice.”
Lysiemon clenched his jaw but remained silent as Heliodas suppressed a smirk.
“So the question is how to proceed from here,” Alexander said. “If you think that I am ungrateful for
your polis’ hospitality following my father’s defeat, you would be mistaken. If you think that I would take pleasure in conquering Greece before turning my attention to the east, you would also be mistaken. I would take no pleasure in these things, though if my success in securing our northern border is any indication, I could accomplish both.”
“So you speak of a truce?” Demosthenes asked.
“No,” Alexander said flatly. “We both know that it would take a large force to invade Persia. Further, I know that there are many among the Delian League who do not like Macedonia, regardless of how Athens might feel. I cannot leave my country at risk while I lead the bulk of my forces to deal with the larger threat.”
“So you’re saying that war is inevitable,” Demosthenes said. Heliodas had seen his second cousin speak at contentious meetings often enough to know that he was about to radically change the course of the conversation. “Suppose that the Delian League agreed with you about Persia. Would you not emerge stronger and stand a better chance of success if we were to aid you in the coming conflict?”
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “You propose an alliance?”
“It would seem that we have little choice,” Demosthenes said. Heliodas could see Lysiemon’s face turn a shade of red; he doubtlessly objected to Demosthenes’ proposal, but was powerless to speak his opposition at this point in the proceedings. “You would lead the expedition to Persia, as you already intend to do, and we would agree to not only take no actions against you, but supply you with troops that you could either use to defend Macedonia or use against Persia, at your discretion. If you succeed, then you will have freed the Ionians and possibly even brought Persia to its knees. If you fail, Persia will look at this as an assault from Macedonia and not Greece, so it will take its vengeance upon your country and not mine. Regardless of the outcome, this would not be a bad scenario for Athens or the rest of the League.”
Echoes of Olympus (The Atheniad Book 1) Page 3
