Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

by Janell Rhiannon

  “Did you ride long, then, this morning?”

  “Yes.” Hektor’s gaze fell to the floor. “But I fell off.” Hecuba tilted her son’s chin up. “Xenos told me all warriors fall off sometimes, even princes.”

  Hecuba sensed the disappointment in his voice. “The horse master speaks truth. With my own eyes I have seen your father tossed more times than I have fingers.” She smiled holding up both hands showing all ten fingers. She wiggled each one for emphasis.

  Hektor squinted in disbelief at his mother. “My father fell off that many times?”

  “Yes,” the queen laughed. “Yes, he has. Breaking horses is difficult when you do not grow up together as you and Mighty Ares have. Some horses never feel the weight of a man until they are already grown. They are wild, free spirited beasts.”

  Hektor smiled and shrugged his little shoulders. “Someday, I will break the horses.”

  “Yes, you will son. As a prince should.”

  “And learn to fight.” The boy’s eyes sparkled with the anticipation only an innocent could have. Little Hektor spoke of war as a game he’d play and run back to his mother’s arms. A pain gripped the queen’s heart when he spoke of his youthful desire to ride into battle alongside his father. Suddenly, a sliver of white light struck her vision, widening to images of...Hektor, grown, lying in the dust. Women weeping and wailing. The moment passed as quickly as it had come. She dismissed the experience as a worry that all mothers and wives must bear. Their men, proud warriors, heeding the call to battle, to hold their shields and spears aloft, to scream out their blood lust of battle to Ares with roaring courage…to charge headlong into the face of possible death. Some would die, some would live. It was the way of things. No one was spared the agony. Not even a queen.

  “Someday, you shall.” She pulled his little head toward hers and kissed him on top of his curls. He smelled of hay. “You will be a great warrior someday, my little Hektor, breaker of horses, my golden prince.”

  Hektor wrinkled his nose at his mother and crossed his slender arms on his chest.

  “I am not little.”

  Hecuba smiled softly. “Only to me, sweet boy.” Hektor leapt into his mother’s bed. She tickled him under his arms. Rounds of cheerful giggles bounced across the floor and echoed out the open windows. Oh Priam, you knew just what I needed. Hecuba forced all the frightening prospects for the future out of her mind. She poured her affection and joy into the moment with her son laughing next to her.

  PRIAM WALKED ALONE through the city he loved, the stone streets winding toward the citadel’s center where Apollo’s temple stood. The city’s inhabitants regaled the patron god’s part in building their fortress home in songs and festivals. It honored the god to exist so prominently among the people. The temple’s dazzling marble pillars towered to dizzying heights set against the expanse of the heavens. Paintings of gods and goddesses and their heroic deeds spiraled every marble column from cap to base around the outer perimeter of the temple. On each corner, a magnificent sculpture of Apollo held up the temple’s roof as the structure rested on each statue’s shoulders. A relief carved depicting Apollo and Poseidon building Troy’s great ramparts adorned the great pediment above the temple’s entrance and black marble paved the entry. Priam passed beneath the great triangle and entered Apollo’s sacred space. Priam thought of his legacy, his immortality. For him, it lay in the hope that his descendants depicted his life in some glorious measure on a wall or column or in a song of his great deeds. And so far, there had been nothing so grand in gesture or deed to bring any measure of fame. Kings would always rise to power, but none as powerful or enduring as the city herself. Troy stood as the only immortal link in his world. He must protect it. He wanted Iphicrates’ foretelling proven wrong by Apollo’s high priestess. His world with Hecuba depended on saving his son.

  Priam entered Apollo’s temple deeply troubled. He walked to the cella to make an offering on the plinth stone. He set down a small basket of pearls and a shimmering gold crown of laurel leaves. The extravagant votive revealed the extent of his wounded heart. He wondered why Apollo betrayed him. Secretly, he thought perhaps he took too much pleasure from his mortal life. Have I not made all sacrifices? Conducted all necessary festivals? And now by divination of Iphicrates, Priam found his own hand forced to pay a price more valuable than the lavish votive offering he brought. The life of a prince in exchange for a handful of pearls and gold seemed an iniquitous exchange. Would Apollo take anything less than the blood he demanded? At that moment, it occurred to him how precious the life of this unborn child was. Priam possessed more gold and treasure than any king in Asia. He would give all, if necessary, to save his son. An errant pearl bounced behind the wall of blue curtains where Apollo’s secrets floated as whispers into the ears of eager priests. Sheer blue fabric shielded the adyton from direct gaze preserving the sanctity and the absolute mystery of the god. Priam heard the pearl roll to silence. I have not brought nearly enough. I cannot carry the entire treasury on my back, he argued with himself as fear and doubt threatened to overtake him.

  A priestess with hair as pale as summer honey emerged with the errant pearl in her palm. Her dark gray eyes looked on him with pity. “I believe this is for the votive my lord offers.” Her whispered greeting sounded around him. Priam detected no movement from her lips at all.

  He plucked the pearl from her palm, placing it back with the others with more care this time. “Yes. Gratitude.”

  “You are particularly troubled today, King Priam.” When her steady gaze probed his face, the black ice of her pupils pierced through all his thoughts.

  Priam hesitated to give life to the words. “There has been a…the queen dreamt…Iphicrates said—”

  “You have been told that the child the queen carries brings destruction to our great city.” The priestess made no indication of whether or not the divination was true.

  “So you have heard from the seer,” Priam responded. Fucking Iphicrates! I told him to keep his tongue in his mouth!

  “I have heard it from Apollo’s own lips.”

  Priam’s hopes plummeted. His stomach twisted and bile soured his tongue. He clenched his jaw against the rising bitterness. Apollo. She’s heard from Apollo!

  “Smoke surrounds you, King Priam. It is true. Apollo decrees that your unborn son be sacrificed to him or the city of Troy will fall before a descendant of Aeacus, the mortal wall builder.”

  “Aeacus? But Troy has no quarrel with the western tribes. Pirating along the southern coast of the Troad has died down to nothing. We bear the west no ill will,” Priam argued.

  The Priestess folded her hands. “You agree that your sister is well tended?”

  Priam’s resolve began to falter. He frowned. “Hesione?” The prick of that awful day stung his pride. The deaths of his father and brothers, the loss of his sister at the hands of Herakles...he could still see her pale sky gown fluttering in the wind. “She sends me no word at all. What of her?”

  “You are satisfied that Herakles took her because of your cowardice? Your heart is no longer troubled that a daughter of Troy yet lives among the Greeks against her will?”

  Priam’s face reddened. The match had been unfair. Certain death for him. “How could I fight Herakles?”

  “Apollo answers that you did not even try. The gods test mortals in many ways. It is for you to follow the path Fate stretches before you, not maneuver to evade it.”

  Priam’s hope of saving his unborn son slipped from his fingers. “Is there no other way, priestess? I will give Apollo anything else. I beg him to allow my son to live.”

  “If he lives, Troy will fall. It is that simple.” She spoke Apollo’s will with iron words, and disappeared back behind the blue veil.

  No compromise would be struck between the king and the god. Priam understood, now, his complicity in the episode looming before his family and city. Years ago, he’d allowed Herakles to steal his sister away to the Greeks. He’d feared his own death at the he
ro’s dreadful hands, rather than risk his life for another, for family. Everyone spoke of understanding the necessity of self-preservation for a prince. Some even praised him for his ingenuity. But now the events unfolded in an entirely different light. His courage and resolve had been called into question by the gods. Apollo had lost whatever wager he’d made to defend Priam’s honor. Now, Priam would pay for the god’s humiliation with the price of his unborn son’s life. His shoulders slumped with the burden he now carried, the news he must deliver, and the act he must perform. “Hecuba will never forgive me,” he said to no one.

  Priam set the mask of king in place, knowing what he must do, knowing that he would order it done. Behind the resolute visage of a king, the father’s heartbreak would be endured alone in silence and despair. As he left the temple, he decided against immediately revealing this knowledge to his wife. Perhaps he would find a way around this. Maybe Apollo tests me again? Maybe Apollo will stay my hand in the final moment? His resolution of silence strengthened his thin hope that he yet had time, or more precisely, that Apollo yet had time to be moved, once again, to favor him.

  THE LABOR BEGAN with the pull of the full moon. Hecuba’s eyes opened. She recognized the familiar dull ache. The squeeze tightened down her lower back and wrapped itself around her lower hips and belly like a merciless snake.

  It begins. The child who’s Fate she agonized over these past weeks pressed his entrance into a hostile world. She rolled onto her side to ease the progressing pains. She knew precious little time remained before she would be forced to call Tessa to fetch the midwife. Hecuba planned to endure as much pain as she could bear buying precious time with her unwelcomed son…unwelcomed by all, except for her. She loved the child despite the prophecy.

  Tears filled her eyes for the child pushing his way to the light. Hecuba wept into her pillow. His innocence would be her life’s burden. She would never know the burn of the first milk passing to her breasts as his little mouth suckled for the first time. She would not know the smell of his baby skin. She would not feel the weight of him in her arm as she cradled him to sleep, or the weight of his little body as it grew to fill the circle of her arms, making them ache with his increasing size. She would not know him at all. He would be stolen away from her and lost forever. With each new tug on her bones, she clenched her teeth and tried to breathe as quietly as possible. In between the pains, she shifted to the opposite side to keep the mounting pressure from making her cry out.

  As the moonlight shifted past the high window, the birthing process accelerated. A piercing pain below Hecuba’s pelvis forced a shrill scream into the stillness shattering the silver calm. The warm sticky wetness washed down her thighs. Eleithyia wasted no time bringing the child along. Why goddess? Let him stay with me a while longer, I beg you. Her plea hung unheeded in that space between earth and sky.

  Priam bolted upright at her scream. The wet warmth of the birthing waters touched his leg beneath the bed covering. “Hecuba, how long have you labored in the dark without the women?”

  His wife grabbed his arm digging her fingernails into his skin leaving red welts and screamed again. “Now, Priam! He’s coming now!”

  The king leapt from the bed in one fluid motion. “Tessa!” He tossed a simple chiton over his nakedness just as Tessa entered with the midwife scurrying behind her. Hecuba’s private attendant had heard the scream moments before and wasted not a second on her mistress’s behalf.

  “Make haste. The queen nears delivery,” Priam barked at the women, as he walked passed to the door. He grabbed the guard’s shoulder. “Fetch Agelaus to me.”

  The guard’s surprise evident in his wide eyes. “My lord, the royal herder?”

  “Ask no questions. Just bring him to me.” Priam shut the door so quickly that the guard barely had time to move his foot to safety before the heavy timbers smashed his toes.

  Tessa, curious at the king’s harshness, covertly watched him and wondered what he wanted with the guard. She mumbled to herself, “Stupid men. Even kings! They never pay attention to the goddess. The moon is full. What did he expect?”

  The midwife rushed to Hecuba’s side as another pain tore across the queen’s back. Her knuckles gripped the linen until they whitened. “Push. I have need to push. HAARRHH—AAAH!” She wept and screamed.

  The midwife gently shoved the king aside. “Sire, I remind you this is a woman’s work.” “My lady, this will hurt but for a moment. I must feel for the baby’s position.” She put her hand inside the queen. The child’s crown just a few finger joints from the light of life. “When the next pain comes, bear down as hard as you can.”

  Hecuba’s skin glowed from the stress and sweat of labor. Her body worked with natural purpose. The urge to push mounted stronger than before. She held her breath and pushed with all the strength she could, her legs shaking with the effort.

  “My lady, you must move to the edge of the bed. Come, time to sit up. Help the child out. Tessa, help me move her.” The two women eased their queen to the edge and propped her in a semi-sitting position with her back side resting on the mattress. The next mounting pressure overtook Hecuba’s body and she strained mightily.

  “Priam,” Hecuba cried out, “save our son!”

  The midwife felt the child’s head crowning and reassured the queen. “The goddess has blessed you. All goes well. The child is fine, my lady.”

  “Priam! He’s our—AAARRHHAA!” Hecuba’s final effort brought forth the squalling baby boy covered in the scum of new life. Tessa supported the queen as her body collapsed, easing her as she lay back in the bed.

  “See my lady? He is perfect!” The midwife smiled and held the child up so Hecuba could see him. She deftly cut the life cord with a small sharp knife and wrapped the babe in a clean swaddling cloth. She handed the little prince to Tessa. “Clean the babe and bring him back to his mother. Put haste in your step, woman.” The midwife tended to the queen with steady, experienced hands. The last stage of birth remained. The midwife massaged Hecuba’s stomach to expel the sacred afterbirth without tearing the womb, a delicate matter. The seers would want the bloody membrane for divination for the new prince and she wanted a healthy queen.

  Tessa gently washed the infant’s body. His wrinkly face purpled with his distress. He flung his arms and legs out in fright, startling himself into more screaming. Once Tessa tightly swaddled the new prince, his crying subsided to a soft whimper. “Such a beautiful boy. Surely, the goddess has endowed this child with gifts yet to be revealed.” She handed the child to the queen. “Here is your prince, my lady.”

  Hecuba opened her arms to embrace her son. Sensing her love and warmth the new prince settled into a wide-eyed silence. The baby’s hazy blue eyes locked onto Hecuba’s face shattering her already broken heart. “He knows who I am.” She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. She kissed his little fingers clinging to one of her own. Hecuba dared a glance at her husband. Priam’s silence terrified her. He offered no word of encouragement, nor commented about the child. She begged the god. Please, Apollo, send a sign. Let me keep my son.

  Tessa ordered the bed dressed with fresh linen, the servants hurried to haul the soiled clothing and the defiled bloody remnants. Satisfied that all boded well for the queen, Tessa asked the king,” Shall I call for the heralds, my lord?”

  “No.” Priam had scarce moved since he’d ordered the guard hours before. He sat unmoving like a stone, watching Hecuba labor, yet with eyes glazed over and distant.

  “But, my lord, is it not—”

  “Leave us,” Priam ordered sternly. The women took their leave and the room quieted.

  Hecuba had never expected to hold the child, and his first slumber secured in her embrace stirred her love for him to soar to heights she hadn’t dared ascend until this moment. He soul ached. She had no idea how she could ever let him go. She whispered, “He is so beautiful.” Wispy black curls framed his cherubic face. She brushed her index finger gently across the tiny indent of the infant’s
chin. “Look, Priam. He has your chin. Just like Hektor.”

  Priam frowned. Hecuba desperately searched for some trace of grief or sadness behind the hardness in his eyes. “I have asked for a sign from Apollo. But the god is silent in my ears even now.”

  The queen’s tears sprang anew. She knew Priam would enforce the god’s commands. They weren’t the first parents forced to sacrifice a child. She’d hoped that their station would save their son, but alas the gods remained unmoved and indiscriminant in their decision. To the gods, there were no princes or peasants, only mortals.

  Very quietly Priam said, “I want to hold my son.” Hecuba lifted the tiny babe to him. The child looked even smaller wedged in the crook of Priam’s giant arm. The king touched the little indented chin with his calloused warrior’s finger. “If only Apollo would allow you to grow into a strong Trojan warrior.” He stifled the tears and grief that burned behind his eyes.

  A commotion clanged outside the door, breaking the spell of hope. The guards blocked someone. Hecuba heard Tessa scream. Whoever they were, they remained far enough away that the exchange of words was unintelligible. The commotion drifted to their chamber, and as the outsiders approached, it became apparent the words were violently angry. From just beyond the royal chamber door, Tessa’s voice screeched with unmistakable contempt and fear. “You can’t go into the chamber!” A loud crash of pottery shattered just beyond the door startling the infant.

  “Get out of my way woman!” Iphicrates growled above the unmistakable sound of soldiers’ heavy footsteps.

  “Get out of my way I said! Do you wish Apollo to strike you down where you stand?!” Tessa screamed, and then fell silent.

  Priam locked eyes with his wife as he handed the baby back to her. He drew his sword and readied it at his side. In a matter of seconds, the inner door to the private sanctum burst open with tremendous force. Iphicrates stormed in followed by a confused contingent of palace guards. Royal instruction decreed Iphicrates direct access to the king day or night. The guard had sensed danger, so he’d tried barring Iphicrates at the door. But, he’d stepped aside after the seer threatened Apollo’s wrath against him. Death for disobeying Priam’s household orders worried the guard, but he feared a gruesome death at Apollo’s hands far more.