Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

by Janell Rhiannon

  Leda took in the sight of the deep green water ahead. “Finally.” As she approached the pond, she caught sight of the pair of snow swans that had nested along the banks and their downy grey cygnets. Leda laughed as the babies bobbed and crisscrossed behind their parents feeding and clumsily navigating the water. The graceful parents trumpeted their business back and forth.

  The queen’s thoughts turned again to the marriage her husband had negotiated for their elder daughter. Agamemnon impressed her as a shrewd man, an intelligent man...and quite used to having all manner of his life strictly controlled. He possessed an outward appearance of civility, but she sensed something dark ran beneath his cool presence. A loud collision sounded behind her. Leda startled and turned expecting to find a bandit or worse.

  A lone black swan with wings slightly open, chest heaving met her surprised gaze. Above an eagle screeched its fury. Leda squinted into the sky catching sight of the golden bird of prey circling high over head. “Seems you have escaped the clutches of certain death and dinner,” the queen said. The swan folded its wings and made no move to retreat. Leda held out her hand. “Come, then bird. Come. I will not hurt you.” As if in understanding, the dark beauty approached. The queen stood still not wishing to frighten the exquisite foul. When it finally stood at her feet, its elegant neck and head reached almost to her shoulder. “What a magnificent bird you are.” The swan nuzzled its head against her breast. Leda took a step backward with the unexpected force of the swan’s presence. “Strong for a—”

  “God,” a voice echoed in her ear.

  Confused, Leda backed away from the advancing foul.

  “You will not escape me, Queen of Sparta.”

  Leda froze. “You! You speak?”

  “Why look so surprised, Leda?”

  “Zeus?” she questioned.

  “Again, I come to you.”

  Leda recalled the pain of coupling with Zeus. The agony of it rendered her ill for days. “No, please. No more. You promised you would not violate me a second time, if I bore your offspring. I have given you sons. Please—”

  “It pleases me to do so. You will bend to my desire. I am bound by no promises to mortals,” the feathered Zeus said. The loss of Thetis still burned within him. He would sate his appetite for the mortal flesh of a woman with Leda. The black swan pressed toward her and Leda scrambled backwards, stumbling on the hem of her gown. She fell hard against the ground. The swan flapped its wings as if taking off in flight, but instead launched itself at her, landing heavily on her belly, pressing her firmly against the wet grass. Pain seared through her sacred cross as the dark-feathered beast shook its body into hers; its wings opened wide above her in triumph of its act.

  The sunlight dimmed as the bird waddled toward the brush. It shimmered darkly, its form stretching its length and shape into the silver god-king of Olympus. Leda lay ruined and bleeding on the ground as the Zeus disappeared into the green and from her sight. The queen placed a shaking hand on her stomach. She knew he’d left her with child once again. Tyndareus would not be pleased. She wept wondering what would happen next. The rape exhausted her and she collapsed on the ground unable to rise. After a long time, she slowly stood to her feet. Zeus will not defeat me. No man, god or no, will ever defeat me. Disheveled and dirty, Queen Leda made her way back to the palace, hoping no one would see her before she could cleanse her body of the despicable act.

  CLYTEMNESTRA SAT QUIETLY as her maid arranged her hair, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. Knowing that her father had arranged this tragedy only deepened the wound. She sighed, resigned to her fate but unwilling to accept it. She would find some way to survive this marriage. Even as her maid fussed over her, she was planning her escape. She wanted to run for anywhere else and when an opportunity presented itself she would travel as far away as she could.

  The door opened followed quickly by her mother in a flowing red gown and a sheer golden himation wrapped around her shoulders. “My darling,” she smiled and leaned to kiss Clytemnestra on the cheek. “You are a most stunning bride.”

  “I do not care how I look for that murderer,” Clytemnestra responded.

  “You will drop such tones of treason immediately. You may be the future queen of Mycenae, but you are yet young. You are not above being slapped for your impudence by your mother.” Leda turned and spoke sharply to the chamber maid, “Leave us.” The queen waited until the room was empty before she softened. She approached her daughter with both hands out stretched in apology. “My sweet child. Do you think I wish you to marry this bastard after what he has done to you? Your family?”

  “You confuse me Mother.”

  “Do you know that maid?” Leda asked.

  Clytemnestra thought for a moment, and then she realized she’d never seen her before today. “No.”

  “Do you think Agamemnon will not have you watched? Not wait for a sign you are disloyal? Do you think he would not turn his rage against you once he has achieved his purpose?”

  “What is his purpose, Mother?”

  “To make Mycenae the richest kingdom of the Three Seas.”

  “You would have me continue as if he has done nothing? Even Thyestes received greater mercy than I am expected to endure. Agamemnon killed my husband. My son. Your grandson. Does this mean nothing to you?”

  Leda took her daughter roughly by the shoulders, shaking her words into the young woman between clenched teeth. “You stupid girl! Have you not learned already? Do you think men the only creatures who go to war? The only ones who gird themselves in armor? You think there is more bravery in hacking a man in two than the plight of women, who pass by the horror, slipping on the blood and shit of strangers to find their men? Bring them home. Stitch their gaping holes, praying to the gods for their healing all the while knowing death drags them to the Underworld? Every step you take, every word you utter is a strategy in a war for control of your world. Agamemnon has won the first battle.” Tears slid down her daughter’s cheek, and Leda gentled her tone. “Gird yourself, my darling, with your words, your plans. Do not let him win the war.”

  The princess wiped the tears from her eyes and stiffened her jaw. “I will rule my world.”

  “Now, you sound the true Spartan princess.”

  Clytemnestra stood, smoothing her gown. Leda admired her daughter. “So young, my darling. Yet, none more beautiful...save the goddesses of Olympia.” A brief flutter in her womb startled her.

  “What is wrong Mother?”

  “Nothing. I will be fine.” Leda placed a hand over her lower belly. Her womb was already budding with new life. Not yet, not yet...She silently cursed Zeus. A knock sounded on the door. Leda stepped to open it, pushing all other concerns aside. Neola stood in the doorway.

  “Let her in, Mother.” Clytemnestra smiled at the elderly woman she’d met days ago. “She is trustworthy.”

  Neola nodded to her mistress and the queen. “My lady, it is time. They await you in the great hall.”

  “Tell my Lord Agamemnon that I am on my way.”

  Neola nodded, bowed and left the chamber.

  “Remember my words,” Leda warned.

  “I will not soon forget any of this, Mother.”

  CLYTEMNESTRA SMILED SWEETLY but stiffly through the ceremony, even as her heart screamed for bloody vengeance. She sat unmoving on Agamemnon’s bed, the bed recently belonging to Thyestes, and waited for her new husband. “I hope he chokes on a bone and dies,” she thought. She passed the time examining the chamber. It looked much as it did before the son of Atreus returned to violently reclaim his throne. She noted to herself that she would make several changes, not because there was anything wrong with the bright colored frescos and mosaics, but because she would put her mark on the walls. Claim her rights as Queen of Mycenae.

  Time passed too slowly. She had observed that Agamemnon had drunk his fill of wine at the wedding feast so she hoped that his marital rights would be over quickly. It hadn’t truly settled in her mind until now; she’d never
lain with another man except Tantalus. The memory of his gentleness was a dull agony she needed to bury deep in her chest. She knew the love she bore her dead husband would not find its equal on this earth. Spreading her legs for Agamemnon would be a maneuver to secure her position and gain power for herself, gain control over as much of her realm as possible. Her mother was right. It was all a game to her father and newly-made husband. She would play the game and win Mycenae for herself. Then a thought occurred. A thought so alarming she hadn’t even dared allow its full materialization until this very moment. Children. She could very well find herself with child by coupling with Agamemnon. She forced the sight of her battered son from her mind. That memory would only ruin her new found resolve. Any children from this distasteful marriage would be innocents she could use to anchor her position. Yes, she thought, I will need children.

  IN THE SWEET and silent darkness of a foreign bed chamber, Leda slept soundly. From the abyssn of dreamers’ sleep, a hand softly shook her shoulder until her eyes fluttered open and she startled at the silver shimmering light of a goddess.

  “Shah, Leda. It is I,” the silver goddess whispered.

  “Aphrodite!” Leda exclaimed. She sat up, pressing her back against the wall behind her.

  The goddess laughed. “Fear me not, Leda. I am here to deliver wondrous words to you.”

  “I am your servant,” Leda spoke, the words cracking with uncertainty.

  “Calm your fears, daughter. I know about the child you carry.”

  Her hand moved protectively to her belly. The slight mound beneath her hand gave her some comfort. “Child?”

  “You think my Father would not bless you this second time?”

  Leda remained silent, petrified at what Aphrodite might divulge. When gods mixed with mortals it was never peaceful.

  “Perhaps, you find dissatisfaction with his act?”

  “No. I am pleased. I am only surprised,” Leda said quietly, pushing her rage at her violation by Zeus aside.

  “I have come to bless the child,” the goddess informed.

  The life in Leda’s womb fluttered again. “It is far too early to feel the child...” She looked to Aphrodite for answers.

  “Not for the mortal children of Zeus. You should know.”

  “He will be mortal then?” She found relief in the goddess’ words.

  “Of course, mortal. It is not to be a boy this time. My blessing is for the girl child you carry.”

  “Girl child?”

  “You mortals and your questions. Yes, your child is a girl. I am blessing her with great beauty. In fact, I mean to make her the most beautiful woman who ever graced mortal life. You will call her Helen.”

  “Thank you, goddess. I am forever in your debt for such a blessing,” Leda said. Even as she said the required thanks, she knew that such a blessing would be a curse for any mortal woman. How much turmoil would such an existence cause for their family? For Sparta? Would this child turn the eye of jealous Hera in their direction?

  Aphrodite nodded at the mortal queen and her light faded into nothing, leaving Leda staring into the dark. The silence had been a comfort, now it filled her with an eerie sense of doom and disaster. She contemplated the news. There was nothing she could do now, only time would reveal the fate of her unborn daughter, Helen of Sparta.

  CHIRON’S NEWS WEIGHED heavy on Peleus’ mind. Years ago he would have welcomed the opportunity to wage war against the city of Iolcus and Queen Astydamia. Peleus paced the great hall. “That wretched bitch deserves death,” he said.

  Chiron pawed the floor with his hoof. “There would be no better time to strike than now, Peleus. The king is dead and she is weak.”

  “That may be true. I will never forgive that schemer for her part in Antigone’s death.”

  Chiron crossed his arms over his chest. “Most unfortunate, indeed.”

  “She lied, Chiron. Lied! Pushed my wife to...” Antigone’s limp body hanging from a noose flashed through his mind. “She did not deserve an end such as that.”

  “There is no more ruthless creature on earth than a woman spurned,” Chiron agreed.

  “That sack of lies told my wife, Antigone, I was going to cast her aside and marry her daughter.”

  “Which was only a half-truth,” the centaur mused.

  “Wishing to bed a woman is not a proposal of marriage.” The king sharply eyed his friend. “I regret that.”

  “I am certain you do, Peleus. I know all too well the temptations stirred by the soft flesh of a woman.”

  Peleus continued pacing. “When that bitch Astydamia she told her husband, the man who purified me for killing my father-in-law, accidently mind you―”

  Chiron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, the unfortunate boar incident.”

  The king whipped around facing the centaur. “Do you doubt me?”

  “On the contrary. I would say Artemis had her hand in the entire affair. Continue,” Chiron encouraged.

  “Not long after news of Antigone’s death reached me, Astydamia tried to console me with her naked body. But I would not have her.”

  “That would have been difficult for any man to resist. You are to be commended, my friend. I am not quite certain I would have been so...off-putting.”

  “After the pain she caused? I could not have been more repulsed than if she had been smeared in shit. She told her husband I tried to seduce her. Can you believe that? I tried to seduce her?!”

  “Lies. All lies,” Chiron agreed. “And after the accusations, King Acastus abandoned you in the woods of Mount Pelion.”

  “I can hardly forget that. If you had not come to my aid—”

  “My centaur brothers would have killed you,” Chiron acknowledged with an understanding sigh.

  Peleus stopped pacing and rubbed his thin beard. “If I attack her now...”

  “You would have your revenge and gather to your coffers great wealth.”

  “True. Sea raids only bring so much gold. Sacking Iolcus would bring slaves as well.” Peleus nodded his head. “There is always need for gold and slaves.”

  “Slave girls,” Chiron laughed.

  “The mind of a centaur, even one so blessed with knowledge, is always on the rut.”

  “But what of Achilles? He is young yet,” Peleus asked.

  “Send him to me. I will train him as I did you.”

  “Then it is settled. I will assemble the Myrmidons. Head for Iolcus.” A wicked grin spread across Peleus’ face as he thought of war and retribution. “That bitch will wish she had never laid eyes on me.”

  Chiron twitched his tail. “I almost pity her. Almost.”

  ACHILLES KICKED THE ground. “I do not want to go, Father.”

  Peleus placed a firm hand on his son’s head. He was already taller than any other boy his age. “It is only for a time. It is not forever.”

  “But I do not like the centaur. He is mean.”

  Peleus laughed at Achilles’ worried face. “You are only five. Your opinion is not surprising, my son. He seeks only to make you grow strong in mind and body.”

  Achilles exhaled defeat. “I will not like it.”

  “No, I suppose you may not. In time I promise you will appreciate the gifts he gives.”

  “What gifts?” Achilles asked mildly intrigued. He hadn’t thought he’d be receiving anything of value from the shaggy man-horse. “A sword? A shield?”

  “Knowledge, Achilles.”

  Disappointment filled his voice, “Oh.”

  The king admonished, “Close your mouth or flies—”

  “Will put worms in my belly. I know...” Achilles closed his mouth, but remained disappointed.

  NEOLA EYED THE swell of her mistress’s middle. “It is close to your time,” she said knowingly.

  “It is different this time, yet the same,” replied Queen Clytemnestra. She placed her hand beneath her heavy belly lifting the pressure for a moment. “This child is quieter than...” Her voice trailed off into silence. She would ne
ver forget her first born. Her son. In her heart, she buried her grief and anger at his cruel death but she would never forget or forgive her husband.

  “His Majesty will be pleased that you are well.”

  “That he should care so deeply, I am grateful,” Clytemnestra smiled through her response.

  The maid nodded her understanding. “My lady, forgive my boldness...”

  “Go on, Neola. Your honesty is a gift to me.”

  Neola lowered her eyes. “If you find some joy in this child, it takes nothing from your memory.”

  “You may go,” Clytemnestra said. She waited until the door shut quietly and knew she was alone at last. She walked to the open balcony and stood gazing out over the sea. She’d heard so many tales in her life about warriors setting out for war and adventures over this expanse of blue. The wine dark sea some called it. Sometimes, she wished Poseidon would rise up as a huge sea beast and swallow her whole. She hated Mycenae now. The sun glinted on the water’s surface as she prayed silently for death to claim her. As her grief crept through her like a sickness, the child kicked her roughly in the ribs. It was enough to bring her back to the world. “Do not worry. I am yet here.”