Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

by Janell Rhiannon

  AS OENONE WALKED along the edge of the cool river gathering flowers and plants for healing elixirs, she stooped to pull a broad green plant out by the root, and the river slowed.

  “Father?” she called out.

  “I am here, Oenone,” a voice rumbled deeply.

  She ran her hand through the stilled pool. “I have chosen my mate.”

  Her father’s voice carried over the babbling water. “He will bring you great sorrow.”

  Oenone jerked her hand from the water as if to still the truth. “I have seen it.”

  “A war is coming, my daughter. A war that will destroy all you hold dear.”

  The nymph sighed. “I am in love, Father.”

  “Love changes nothing,” the river god said. “Nothing.”

  WATER SHIMMERED DOWN Thetis’ skin as she emerged from clear dark water. Silver mist veiled her naked form as she lay on the long grass edging the pond she called home. No other nymphs had challenged her for this small isolated paradise she’d created. More importantly, Hera seemed not to notice her when she lingered here. Thetis had no true defense against a jealous goddess. Although a changeling, there was no shape shifting that could keep her safe from an angry Hera.

  Low hanging limbs of willow trees brushed the tips of the tall grass in the breeze. Flowering vines snaked up tree trunks and burst in perpetual color. Nymphs had no desire for the luxuries and airy beauty of Olympus. For earth bound deities, the cloud shrouded temples of marble and gold held no fascination. Thetis yearned not for shining glories. Her desires were physical pleasure and lust and love for Zeus. The god was magnificent, standing tall as a tree with silver hair that moved with a life of its own. She envied Hera. Perhaps it was the way the thunder king gazed upon her, touching her bare skin beneath her garments causing her sacred cross quiver with only his eyes. Many times she wondered what it would be like if Zeus actually lay with her in all his glory. Or in what form he would choose to bring her to ecstatic pleasures and godly delights. But the thought of Hera’s retribution kept her fantasies her own. Hera was a jealous goddess and rightly so.

  Then, there was Poseidon. He too cast lingering looks in her direction; beautiful monstrous lord of the sea, the dreaded earth shaker. His undulating waves and knowledge of sacred caves drove many females mad with desire or terror. He caused the earth to tremble and legs to quake. He was the only god, brother of Zeus, to vie for the bloody membrane prize between Thetis’ thighs.

  And she desired no war between the brother-gods on her account. The memory of mutiny against Zeus by the Others eons ago terrified her. Thetis alone had fretted over Zeus’ isolation and certain demise by sacrifice. She alone stood by his side while the one-hundred handed beast with fifty heads kept the immortal menace at bay. She shivered with fear remembering the frightening attendance of Briareus. The beast’s hands flailing outstretched in battle, its wicked slimy heads swirling, and each mouth frothing with hunger to devour the god’s divine flesh. Briareus’ cacophony of roars echoed across the sky with more deafening fierceness than a hundred of Zeus’ own thunderous bolts. The Olympians’ rebellion against their own father-brother had faded into distant memory, but was not forgotten by Thetis or the deities forced to slink away in humiliation. The resulting peace lay constantly upon the precipice of a sword’s edge. Zeus’ goodwill and the others acquiescence allowed peace, a peace that could erode into warring factions in the clouds of Olympus if a lover’s battle between brothers erupted over her virginity. But still…

  Thetis’ life bound her to no husband. Her days and her nights belonged to her alone. When Hera busied herself among her worshippers and goddess duties, Zeus visited and wooed her gently, secretly. In truth, she loved Zeus, but feared Hera more. When Zeus attended to Hera, Poseidon paid her amorous visits of his own. The trident wielding god proved himself a skillful admirer and suitor. The competition continued so for many seasons, but she feared her innocent resistance would soon fall to a choice. Which god-brother would bed her first became the only lingering question in her mind. For surely, one or the other would take her, and a water nymph could do little to discourage a god as great as either the Thunder Lord or the Earth-Shaker. Completely at their mercy, she knew one day soon one of the brothers would claim her and she’d likely bear a miraculous child. She trembled fearfully thinking what Hera would do if Zeus became her lover. Hera’s retribution would be deadly.

  “MY LORD, IF you bed the nymph, it is not Hera you need worry about. But the child who will come after,” the centaur, Chiron, whispered into his half-brother’s ear.

  “What child?” Zeus countered, suspicious that Chiron had some devious scheme to take Thetis for himself. The wooly horse-man had already taken the nymph, Chariclo, to wife. Perhaps he desired another slippery beauty to satisfy his carnal lust. Zeus knew well the base nature of centaurs’ ecstatic rutting orgies and licentiousness. Their carnivals and sexual rites spread legends among the gods and wood folk alike. Chiron may have been set apart from his kin by his bequeathed intelligence and wisdom, but his heart remained rooted in bestial delights. “Continue, Chiron,” Zeus finally demanded.

  “It has been revealed to me through divinely inspired dream sent from Themis herself that Thetis will bear but a single son. And he shall become greater in all things than his father,” Chiron laid it out as plainly as he could.

  Zeus grimaced, the words literally wounding him. The thought that any child, male or female, would rise up greater than its father, greater than him, king of the gods, immediately halted the notion that stripping Thetis of her virginity was his celestial right. There would be no more uprisings of sons against fathers in Olympus. The war between the Titans and the Olympians had been enough. Zeus had overthrown his father, Kronos, and he himself would not be surpassed in any measure by a product of his own loins.

  “There is more, brother Zeus,” Chiron warned.

  Zeus scowled. “You speak less welcomed words than Hermes.”

  “Themis has said that Thetis should be given to Peleus the loyal king. They shall have a son who will be a mighty warrior, like Ares, with feet as swift as lightening.”

  Zeus considered the portent. Exasperated by denial, he acquiesced, “Go to Phthia, then. Find the king, Peleus. Tell him he shall wed Thetis as a reward for his loyalty.” Zeus ran his fingers through his silver beard. “Yes, let Thetis bear a mortal son and Peleus bear the burden of his son rising in glory above him.”

  “As you desire, my lord.” Chiron galloped away.

  GOLDEN HERMES FLEW from Olympus to deliver the news to silver-footed Thetis. He was used to bringing unwanted messages, and if truth be told, took secret delight in doing so.

  “I have no wish to marry at all. I refuse to marry just anyone.” Thetis’ firm voice belied the disappointment in her heart that Zeus would reject her so suddenly. She knew he could never truly risk taking her as his lover and she truly had no desire to incur Hera’s wrath, yet in her heart she hoped Zeus would take her regardless of consequence. She wanted to feel his power pressed against her if only for a single coupling. She was a nymph after all, passion triumphing over reason and logic.

  Hermes knuckled his hands at his waist. “It is not for you to disagree. You know this.”

  “I will talk to him myself,” announced the scorned nymph.

  “You are no longer permitted such intimacy.” Hermes pursed his lips, tilting his head to one side, “You are a stubborn little nymph. I would not press your case in this matter.”

  Thetis smiled innocently. “What do you mean?”

  “Hera forbids your presence and Zeus agrees.” He waited for the explosion of emotion he knew would follow his words.

  “She cannot exile me from Olympus!” Thetis seethed from her toes to the top of her head. “Zeus will change his mind. I am certain of it.” She stomped her delicate foot with stubborn conviction.

  Hermes could scarcely hide the impish smirk creeping to his golden lips. “It is done, Thetis.” It brought him a small shiver
of satisfaction seeing Thetis squirm. His heavy sigh mocked her. “Ah, well, I am off…back to the mount.”

  “You insensitive ass!” Thetis shrieked after Hermes swept up into the sky beating his little wings as fast as he could, leaving her without even a glimmer of hope of ever returning to Olympus or an explanation of why Zeus suddenly desired her wed to someone else, and adding insult to injury: to a mortal.

  FOR DAYS ON end, Thetis wept an ocean of bitter tears. Her lamentations floated to Olympus; each sparkling drop pricking like a sharp needle in Zeus’ ears. He could not drown her weeping with wine or food. The tears of a nymph never formed silent rivers and Thetis’ tears threatened to draw Hera’s attention. Maybe it was his genuine affection for Thetis, or her wild beauty begging to be tamed, or her exotic movements promising him undulating pleasure that gave her grief the power to reach him. Soon, Zeus acquiesced to whatever failing one could say a god had and pitied the grief-stricken nymph. One last visit. One last time to inhale her earthy sweetness. One last farewell to a much desired but forever sworn unrequited lover.

  At the edge of her glassy pond, Zeus finally came to Thetis. She lay weeping into her elbow; face down in the mossy grass, watering the blades with salty tears. He’d never beheld such a forlorn and fragile being in all his days. He deemed it unfair that fate should decree such a disastrous plan for the son of this wondrous creature. Fate dictated his burdens of regret and sorrow, and this alone tied him to empathy or pity for lesser beings from time to time. Mortals think we gods have the better lot, that we in all our undying days have the superior existence. Forever is a curse. I will always know that I wanted her. My desire will not pass from my mind or body in a welcomed death of flesh. Fate forces me to watch as she gives herself to another, a fucking mortal.

  “Thetis, my dear,” Zeus entreated sweetly.

  Thetis lifted her head slowly, the weight of her grief evident on her marred and swollen face. Her sea green eyes had gone black with sadness. Zeus held out his arms to her. She managed to stand up with an effort. Her head bowed deep with anguish.

  “Come,” the god-king murmured.

  Thetis could stand apart from him no longer. She practically fell into his embrace releasing her sorrow in a desperate howl. Her lithe frame swallowed in Zeus’ arms as he wrapped them around her.

  “Stop, my dear. Stop these incessant tears,” Zeus implored gently.

  “I cannot,” whimpered Thetis.

  “You must or I shall have no peace,” Zeus entreated.

  “Why? Why have you cast me aside?”

  Zeus held her tighter. “It is with great pain that I do.”

  “Then why? If it pains you, take me here, my lord. In whatever form you desire.” Thetis pressed her softness into his chest.

  Zeus steeled the quickening of his desire. He knew it best not to tempt the Fates regarding divine bloodlines. But the nymph was so pliable beneath his touch. He thought of morphing into a warm rain and slowly showering down her arms and legs, running his essence in rivulets down her belly. He thought of enveloping her in her pond, a watery invasion of her being. But the child...he could not forget the child.

  “It is impossible for us to merge,” Zeus voiced apologetically.

  “But why must I marry a mortal? A mortal? I am shamed by this …this…rejection.” Fresh tears erupted falling in large glistening drops solidifying into crystals tumbling down her cheeks. “You merge with mortal women without a second thought. Am I not good enough for you, my lord?”

  “It is not you, Thetis.” Zeus decided then that the truth might be the only way to release them both from their desires. “Chiron delivered a warning regarding the son you would bear from your first bedding.”

  “Chiron! What does he know? Take me here…on the grass,” Thetis teased, placing his hand on her breast.

  Zeus cupped the soft roundness of her flesh burning against his palm. “He knows enough, my little nymph.” He pulled his hand reluctantly away.

  “Is my son to be grotesque? An abomination?” she choked back more tears.

  “It is because your son will become mightier than his father.”

  Thetis’ tears ceased. She knew he would never allow a son to rival his place in Olympia. And she knew now why her lover could never make love to her for all eternity, and why he was casting her to a mortal man. The order of the universe depended on her birthing a child who would eclipse a man, not a god.

  “You see, gentle Thetis, it is quite impossible for me to have a son who is destined to be greater than I am. You remember, as do I, how mutiny almost cost my immortality. It is not safe for you to lay with any immortal. There will be no more uprising in Olympus.”

  “That would be awful.” Thetis recalled the hideous beast who defended her would be lover. She could still hear its deafening roar and how she’d tried to drown out the terrible noise with her hands. But nothing could keep the shrieking from piercing her ears. “You are right. It must not be allowed.”

  He rested his forehead on hers. “And it would be your fault, my little exquisite dove.”

  Yet the matter of a mortal vexed her. “May I choose my mate?” she queried with a cautious smile.

  “I am afraid that the matter is already settled. The man is chosen. But, I give you this little siren. He can claim you only if he can catch you.”

  “And if not?” she pressed her question as softly as she pressed a hand against his chest. Her fingers traced a delicate trail to his beard where she entwined her fingers into its curls. She felt the catch in his breath, and his desire smoldering beneath his gleaming skin. With an iron-hearted apology he spoke the only consolation he could offer. “If he cannot catch you, then he has no claim.” The Thunder King reassured the only lover he would never have, knowing that she was the one he would always want.

  ON THE PRETEXT of hunting stag, Peleus made his way to the secret pond Chiron not so subtly informed him of. The notion of marrying an immortal, a nymph, thrilled the young king even though he knew such a match might prove perilous, if not fatal. Stories abounded of mortal men duped and discarded by jealous female deities, but he decided as soon as Chiron suggested the match that he’d pursue it.

  He hiked in silence for most of the gloomy morning, steadily making his way across meadows and foothills, rocky trails and soggy marsh. He walked through the rising comfort of the sun and into the sweaty heat of the blazing day. His legs ached. His lungs burned. He spat out the thickened spit his parched throat refused to swallow.

  His parched throat ached for a handful of cool water to sip his dry mouth to comfort. As he approached a welcomed oasis, Peleus caught a glimpse of skin and hair skimming below the surface. At first he thought it a large fish or a figment of his imagination. Peleus knelt down, concealing himself behind a willow branch, and watched the deep shadow as it emerged, to his astonishment, on the opposite side of the water. He beheld a naked woman with pale silver skin walk into the cover of low hanging boughs. He stalked her in silence. He watched her slip into a gown of gauze so thin her curves were hardly hidden behind the tiny folds which she carefully arranged with a garland girdle. The train of her dress gathered leaves and flowers as she walked. Her movements mesmerized Peleus. The hunter found himself the prey. He realized this must be the nymph Chiron told him to find and capture. Why Zeus had sanctioned such a match, Peleus was uncertain as his past held nothing honorable enough to warrant a gift as beautiful as this nymph. He wondered, even as he pursued the nymph, if it was the wisest action. He pushed the memory of plotting to kill his half-brother, Phocus, a son birthed by another nymph, from his mind. That incident preceded a long line of tragedies involving women. He shook the thought of poor Antigone’s body swinging from a slender rope from his thoughts as well. This, he thought, this time it will be different. He’d been purified several times over, forgiven, and now that he’d laid eyes on Thetis, he wanted her. He knew he’d do anything to have her. Determined, despite his past, he focused on the hunt.

  Peleus emplo
yed all the skills he’d honed for tracking illusive prey. Stay out of their range of smell, tread silently and never take your eyes off the target. He recalled Chiron’s warning, “Thetis will resist you. It is not within an immortal’s nature to be caged or trapped. She’s a nymph. A changeling. She will fight with all her might and skill. Hang on tightly no matter what form she shifts to. Do not release her, or you will lose her. Once she returns to herself, you have won. She will submit.” Peleus thought of his travels with the Argonauts. This was a simple task compared to all that he’d overcome. All he needed to do was seize her tightly and not let go. Sounded easy enough.

  The hunter set his sights on the beautiful creature weeping face down beneath the tree. A gust of wind blew across the tall grass and through the canopy of trees, carrying her quiet sobs to his ears. A sadness pricked his heart, doubling his resolve to capture this delicate flower and crush her to his chest. He removed his leather sandals and approached on stealthy bare feet. The nymph turned over onto her back. He instinctively crouched low in the grass like a tiger, his eyes barely visible through the tall edge of verge.

  Thetis sat up, scanning the field around her. She heard a step behind her and turned too late to see a giant man leaping at her. She no time to sprint before his arms griped like a vise around her waist.

  “Nooo!” she screamed. “It is not fair!” Thetis realized Zeus had misled her. She assumed she would have fair warning of any contest. “You beast, let me goooo!” The assailant’s arms tightened even more, choking her breath, wrenching the air from her lungs. Immortal instinct took over and she morphed into an enormous hissing snake. Mortals hated snakes. Still the assailant clung to her. She twitched into a lion. Her roar echoed loudly through the trees startling birds from the trees. Still the hunter clung to her. Thetis squirmed into a giant slimy fish. The hunter’s fingers dug deeper into her flesh.