How do they know I’m here? Something is wrong— Paris’ heart pounded fearfully in his chest.
“All pardons, Paris. We are addressing you,” the voice came from behind him. A hand tapped his shoulder.
He jumped and spun, as he pulled his sword from his belt. “Show yourself?!” Paris hissed, his feet firmly planted in a fighting stance, squared in the direction he heard the voice. He faced only the empty air. “I said show yourself!” Feminine laughter rang as clear as chiming bells behind him.
“Come, Paris, warm yourself by our fire,” Hera enticed with a beckoning finger.
Paris dared to straighten. He slowly faced the golden glow of the fire to gaze fully at the women. Tall for women. Tall even for a man, he thought. Two of them had golden hair and the other silver. They encouraged him to draw nearer with graceful hands and pearly smiles.
“Who are you and why are you here?” Paris asked, gesturing around him with an empty hand, “in the hills? Alone?”
“Come. Sit. You shall hear the beginning of a tale that only you can end.”
Paris eyed the elegant woman with silver hair. She seemed to speak for the trio. Her voice was the one that spoke into his ear. He approached never taking his eyes from them. When he reached the edge of the ring around the fire, he sat. The flames warmed the chill from his shins and face.
“You are unlike any women I have ever encountered,” Paris stated.
“I should hope so. One does not lay eyes upon a goddess, but once in a lifetime. If, even that much,” the silver-haired Hera said.
“Goddess? Your meaning is disguised,” Paris said, confused.
“It is plain, Paris. Look at us.”
“You’re tall. Taller than men,” he offered cautiously.
The silver-haired goddess smiled. “You state the obvious. I am Hera. Wife of Zeus.”
“I am Athena,” the Goddess of War and Wisdom, garbed in gold, nodded her greeting.
“I am Aphrodite,” the Goddess of Love nodded a greeting coyly batting her eyes.
“How do I know you are truly divine creatures? Not some imaginings of a fever dream?” Paris asked. “My mother won’t believe this.”
Hera asked, “Our divine forms are not for mortals’ gaze. Are we not pleasant to your eye as we are?”
“Your beauty is undeniable. Maybe you’re Amazons. Or some other magic.”
“You think us Amazons?” Aphrodite bristled at the thought. “Amazons? How common. I think I am insulted.”
“Their height is legendary,” Paris replied.
Aphrodite turned round in a circle. “Athena, sister, have I made some flawed mortal covering? Am I not perfection? Love personified?”
Athena scoffed at Aphrodite’s dilemma. “You appear as you always do. Your mortal skin is as it always is.”
“If you were to look upon our immortal selves, our true form, you would be blinded. Temporarily of course, but blinded all the same,” Hera asserted.
“What would three goddesses want from a bull herder?” Paris asked.
“A judgment. A simple judgment,” Hera said.
“Of what?” Paris asked.
“Our beauty,” Hera replied.
Paris shook his head. “I’m a judge of bovine flesh. Not women. You’ve found the wrong man.”
“You impressed Ares in the bull arena. He said you proved yourself a fair man. ‘Uncorrupted,’ he said. Zeus agreed. You will judge us from our dilemma,” Athena informed him. “My father believes you will provide honest response to his request.”
Aphrodite held out the golden apple. It gleamed in the dying firelight. She turned the orb on its side and ran her fingers over it. “It reads: ‘to the fairest’.”
“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with me?” Paris asked.
“We cannot all be the fairest. Zeus cannot be impartial. No immortal would want to live with the two who were not proclaimed the fairest,” Athena said. “You see the predicament for my father, Zeus?”
“But, how am I to choose? If Zeus himself can’t pick from among you, how am I to do so?”
Aphrodite explained, “You are the unbiased observer. Believe me. The idea that a mortal should judge us repulses me. I shudder to think of the implications. I almost dropped the apple, when Zeus proclaimed it so.”
“You have hardly let go of the fucking thing since Eris threw it on the table,” Athena scoffed.
Paris noted that even with a disgusted scowl, the woman calling herself Athena took his breath away. “Could this be true? You are divine?”
“Mortals,” Aphrodite said, shaking her head. “Always doubting, yet always praying.”
Hera clapped her graceful hands together, bringing order to the small gathering. “It is time to begin the judgment Paris.”
“What are the criteria?” Paris asked. “With cattle, it is their pedigree first.”
Athena considered Paris with a nod of her head. “We’ll not be judged on pedigree. We are goddesses after all.”
“Bulls destined for the arena are judged by their physical structure, their stamina, their temperament,” Paris said. “These qualities I can assess. Anything else, I am unworthy.”
Aphrodite smiled widely. “I have the superior physical form. Shall I reveal it to you, bull herder?” Without waiting for Paris to reply, she undid the clasps holding her pale green gown at her shoulders, and let is slip down the length of her body where it pooled at her feet.
Her nudity amazed Paris. Her lithe frame was perfection by any standard. Her eyes emeralds framed by delicately arched brows. Her nose straight and small, tipped up slightly at the end. Aphrodite’s neck held her head with grace. Her breasts large and firm, sat high on her chest. He noted they were much larger than Oenone’s. The nipples pale pink, crinkled into perfect buds. His eyes moved to her belly, then the sacred cross of her femininity. She had no body hair there or anywhere. Her sacred folds clearly visible stirred his loins with warmth. He immediately looked at the ground, guilt flooding him that his body would desire a female other than his chosen wife.
“Is there something wrong, mortal?” asked Aphrodite.
“No.” His mortal nature pushed the lie up to his lips for protection against the battle within his heart and mind. Paris felt entirely vulnerable in this moment facing the goddesses. He realized that his judgment, whatever he should decree, would anger more than please. The weight of what he must do terrified him. He wondered, what harm would come to him? To Oenone? When he angered the two not chosen...
“Stand not impishly by. Finish your assessment of my flesh,” the goddess demanded.
Against his will, he examined the tapering length of her legs, her small ankles and delicate feet. “You are indeed perfection to the eye. I can find no fault.”
Athena followed and dropped her golden robe to the ground exposing her naked flesh. “Paris, gaze upon me next. I am no soft mound of flesh.”
Paris’ eyes rounded at Athena’s form. Her body was chiseled like a man’s, yet decidedly feminine. Her breasts smaller than Aphrodite’s, but perfect orbs set perfectly upon her chest. She opened her arms wide confidently encouraging him to feast his eyes on her. Her leg muscles knotted to perfection above her knees, her calves gracefully squared and her feet were strong.
“I have never laid eyes on such a woman before,” Paris said, amazed by her physique.
Aphrodite stomped her foot, and reached to slap Athena, who easily stepped away. “You cheat,” she accused Athena.
“Your jealousy is ugly,” Athena taunted.
“I am most definitely not jealous,” Aphrodite snapped back.
Hera intervened before they began throwing fire brands at each other. “Come, daughters. Peace. No final judgment has been made. One of us has yet to be evaluated.” Hera disrobed, carefully stepping out of her silver gown, making sure her rounded hips swayed provocatively for Paris to gaze at.
Hera’s form was much more slender than the other goddesses. Her shoulders were narrow an
d graceful and almost the same width as her hips. Her hair swept the ground in silky tendrils that moved as if the locks had life of their own. His eyes scanned down her chest, taking in each heavy breast peaked with pale silver. Her sacred folds lay hidden behind a triangle of silver hair.
“You are all beautiful beyond compare,” Paris began. “Each of you bears distinctive qualities...even still I cannot distinguish who among you is the fairest.”
“Wisely spoken, Paris,” Athena said. “But the task has fallen to you, by will of Zeus. You must decide.”
“Perhaps, the bull herder requires a more...unique standard by which to judge?” Hera offered.
“What else is there?” Aphrodite asked.
Hera smiled confidently. “We each offer Paris a gift. He must choose the gift he desires most. And in doing so, names the fairest.”
Athena added, “The gift must be within the realm of power we each possess.”
Aphrodite smirked. “I will give my gift last.”
“Sleeping with the mortal is not what Hera meant, Sister.” Athena’s annoyance with Aphrodite dripped like venom from her tongue.
Paris panicked. “I cannot bed any of you. Please forgive me in advance—”
“None of us will bed a mortal. Not even for this title. I forbid it,” Hera asserted. She eyed Aphrodite harshly. Her mind flew quickly to all the women Zeus had taunted her with over their marital life. She would not give the whore monger lightening god any reason to doubt her fidelity, not even for this golden apple...which had sprung from the wedding gift she bestowed on him on their wedding day. She would sooner give up her immortality than give Zeus reason to scorn her.
“Hera, bestow your gift. I shall follow. Aphrodite shall be last,” Athena said.
“Very well. Paris, I see that you roam your land widely, yet it is limited. I will give you all the lands north and west of Greece and the eastern realm rich with gold and spice as yours to rule and roam.”
“That is indeed generous, Hera,” Paris said. He thought how little Oenone would desire living so far from home. He had no desire to rule such a vast expanse of land. He stood without another word.
Athena sighed. “My gift is one no true warrior could resist. You are destined for great things. I can see this. I offer you unsurpassed skill in battle and warfare. Your skill will be renown among mortals for millennia.”
“I thank you, goddess for your deep wisdom. You gift is indeed generous.” Paris again offered little to give away his position. He had no desire for war, for battle, or for legend. He only wished to raise the best bulls. Win contests in the arena. War was the furthest thing from his heart’s desire.
Aphrodite took notice of Paris’ polite, yet unenthusiastic responses. Perhaps something a bit more seductive would entice his favor and the apple. “Paris, I can see that you are a discerning man. Contemplative. I cannot offer more than my realm, as the contest has decreed. Love is my gift.”
“That is a gift I bear already,” Paris replied.
“But you do not have the love of the most beautiful woman in the world,” the Goddess of Love countered.
Athena shot up from her seat on the log. “There was to be no mating between mortals and—”
“Your dullness bores me, Athena! I said woman, not goddess,” she laughed. “I was not offering myself.”
Paris considered the gift as Athena seethed. “I have the most beautiful woman. Your gift is again something which I possess.”
“No, you have a nymph, not a mortal. And there is a mortal whose beauty will rival that of the divine. And I proclaim her love...yours.”
Hera shook her head. “That is a strange gift. I know of no human whose beauty rivals the heavens.”
“You mean yours,” Athena spat.
“Watch your words with me. I afford you a position on Olympus, as a daughter of Zeus. But you are no child of mine. We both know—”
“Peace, Hera. I speak of a woman who has yet to be born,” Aphrodite said.
Paris nodded. “You offer me a woman who has not yet met the light of our world?”
“She will,” Aphrodite promised. “Trust me, she will.”
Paris considered his life. Since the cave incident, he’d chosen to live most of his days peacefully with Oenone. Their marriage he considered a sacred bond. She’d revealed to him the gentle ways a woman loves a man, coaxing him, encouraging him to rise to ecstatic heights. His body never felt such pleasure. He had no desire to leave the nymph for realm, war, or another love. Yet, he understood that he must judge. Whoever he chose, would become his instant guardian, and the two not chosen would become his immediate enemies. If he chose Hera’s gift, he would have to leave Oenone for she would never part with her world, their world. If he chose Athena, he’d have to dedicate his life to war. What good is a warrior’s gift to a bull herder? That left Aphrodite’s gift. It posed no imminent threat. The woman had not been born. What harm in choosing a gift he could not possess, thus preserving his current life?
“I will not delay my decision,” Paris said.
The goddesses leaned toward him each anticipating their individual triumph of vanity.
“I choose...Aphrodite’s gift.”
“What? What did he say?” Hera asked, genuinely confused.
“He chose with his cock!” screamed Athena. She yanked her golden robe up to her shoulders and fastened the clasp. “I should unveil my full glory at you, bastard herder...blind you for your puny efforts.”
“Did you say Aphrodite’s gift served you best? You actually chose an unborn female to the world being laid at your feet? I agree daughter. Men and gods think with their dangling appendages.” Hera picked up her gown without even putting it on, stomping several steps into the woods, before disappearing from sight.
“You will pay for the insult, Paris. On that you may count.” Athena followed Hera’s path and she too disappeared into nothing.
Aphrodite picked up the golden apple that had fallen to the ground. She gleefully tossed it into the air. “It’s mine. I am the fairest.”
“Congratulations, goddess,” Paris said.
“When the moment presents itself, she will be sent to you,” Aphrodite promised.
“I thank you, goddess.” Paris bowed his head in deference. When he looked up, she was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least his world remained intact for now. He hoped Aphrodite would protect him from the wrath of Athena and Hera. For the time being, he decided it best not to say anything to Oenone. She would only worry. If the girl hadn’t been born yet, it would be years before Aphrodite would present her gift. There was time enough to live life and enjoy the simplicities of his world.
THE WEDDING FEAST had ended on a sour note, but the wedding eve proved a sweet and vigorous affair. Thetis lay sleeping in the curve of Peleus’ body. Her cool skin smoothed like silk against his coarse hairiness. He had thought his heart immune to love, but with each mating the iron heart in his chest softened. He satisfied the nymph from every possible angle until she collapsed into the linen, both of them smiling in the dark. Sleep eluded him the entire night. Usually, sex satiated him into a deep slumber. He blamed the wine. He’d drunk enough of it to fell a wild boar.
Thetis stirred in the crook of his arm. Her long black hair spilled across his shoulders and pillows, and tangled between their legs. Peleus watched her sleep filled eyes flicker back and forth beneath their lids. She smiled peacefully. He brushed the side of her face with his hand and gently kissed her forehead. He marveled that even in sleep the nymph’s beauty surpassed any female he’d ever laid eyes on. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arm tighter around her. He wanted to protect her forever, keep her to himself. When he promised her freedom, he had no idea that her presence would compel him to want her more. Keeping his promise would prove more difficult than he originally believed.
The morning sun lit the edges of the curtains brightening the chamber with the coming of Apollo’s glory. Thetis opened her eyes to find her new husba
nd gazing down at her.
“Do you find me as pleasing in Apollo’s light, as in the darkness?” she cooed.
The very sound of her bubbling voice set his desire to burning. “You please, nymph. In every way a man can be pleased.” He rolled onto his side facing her and kissed her above each eye.
“I, too, am well satisfied. I did not think a mortal man capable of igniting such a fire within me,” Thetis smiled up into Peleus’ large blue eyes. She reached a slim hand to stroke his blonde beard, and brushed a stray honey gold curl from his forehead. “Did you find the wedding gifts pleasing as well?”
“I was surprised by the horses given by Poseidon. Balius and Xanthus will be the finest horses in my stables. Immortal horses? I never imagined such a thing existed.”
“And Chiron’s spear?” Thetis asked.
“Never gripped a finer balanced shaft and blade,” Peleus assured her. “Chiron said the blade was forged by Hephaestus himself.” He leaned his head down to kiss her.
“Our marriage is only one day long and already the gifts exceed what any mortal deserves.”
“There is one other gift left to give, my husband. Although it is rather small now, it will increase as the days pass. I do hope it will please you.” Her liquid eyes darkened with seriousness.
“What do you speak of? I know of no other gifts,” the king said.
“It is my gift, my husband.”
“There is nothing you could offer that would displease,” Peleus reassured his new wife.
Thetis pressed her naked body closer to Peleus. “Your seed has taken hold in my belly,” she said.
Peleus rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling of their marital chamber. His face revealed nothing.
“There is more,” she offered.
“Speak the words,” he said softly.
“It is a son. He will be golden like his father and blessed like his mother.”
Peleus’ eyes found hers. In that moment, his tormented heart found wholeness. He was truly content. “With your blood running through him, he will be the mightiest warrior the Myrmidons have ever followed.”
Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) Page 14
