Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

by Janell Rhiannon

  “So, Agelaus was right...about the shining bear...,” Paris said.

  “Enough talk of the mundane. I bring you news of the beauty that will one day belong to you, as I promised years ago.”

  Paris didn’t want to hear the news. He’d hope that the goddess would forget the promise being pleased with her title of being the fairest. “I will hear your words, goddess.”

  “She has been born, Paris. She will be the most fair of mortal women. And she will be yours.”

  “I am thankful you’ve remembered the promise of such a gift on my behalf, but I have a wife I am pleased with. I desire no other.”

  Aphrodite laughed at Paris’ thin rebuff of her gift. “Men do not refuse the will of the immortals.”

  “I intend no insult goddess.”

  “I take none. You need have no immediate concern. Helen is yet a child of two winters. I will not deliver her up until she has bled as a woman.”

  “Where is she from?” Paris asked.

  “Why do you fret so? Do not worry. When the season is upon you, I will provide the way to her.”

  “So I have time yet?”

  “Time for what mortal?”

  “To make my home in Troy.”

  “Take your place among the princes,” the goddess said. “I shall return.” Without further discussion, the goddess shimmered into thin air leaving Paris unsettled. He didn’t want a different wife. He loved Oenone. Betraying her would be like betraying himself. His thoughts troubled him all the way back to the home he shared with the nymph.

  “THERE YOU ARE, my love. The evening meal is almost cold,” Oenone said. Paris sat at the table without returning her greeting. “Is something the matter,” the nymph asked. Again, her husband didn’t answer. “Are you thinking about Troy again.”

  Paris lied. “I can think of nothing else.”

  Oenone sat next to him. “I wish there was some comfort I could give. But I am afraid I have more heaviness to add to your burden.”

  Paris finally turned to face her. “Most unwelcomed news.”

  “I have had a disturbing vision of our future, my love. One that pains me greatly.”

  “Speak, then.”

  The nymph spoke, “I have seen that you will abandon me for another. One who is golden and fair from across the sea.”

  Oenone’s sadness pricked Paris’ heart. He thought of Aphrodite’s promise...Helen...it must be Helen she speaks of...“I will never leave you, Oenone. I could not forsake you for another; it would be as if I cut off a part of my flesh. No, I will not leave you.”

  Oenone remained silent.

  “There is more?” Paris asked.

  “War will come to Troy. And you will be wounded grievously and only I will be able to heal you.”

  “War? in Troy? I cannot believe that. The walls are impossible to breech. The world knows this. Who would start a war they could not win?”

  “That was not revealed. Only that the war will come.” She grabbed Paris’ hand. “Promise me, that if this comes to pass, you will send for me. Let me heal your wounds so you are not lost to me forever.”

  “Oenone, nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “Promise?”

  “I see you will not be deterred. I promise.”

  “Promise you will always love me,” she said quietly.

  “Shah, Oenone. I will love you, always,” Paris kissed her sweetly on the mouth and rested his forehead against hers. “But I must take my place among my true family.”

  “HOLD THE LYRE like this, Achilles,” Chiron admonished. “It is to be stroked, not pawed at.”

  “I hate music lessons,” Achilles groaned. “Can we not train with sword and shield?”

  “You are impossible, imp!”

  Achilles bristled. “I am no imp! You horse man!”

  Chiron threw his head back with laughter. “Horse man? That is your witty retort? You call me a horse man?” He laughed until he could laugh no more.

  Achilles stood fuming with his fists dug into his hips.

  “Little Achilles, perhaps we should train. You will drop that sour face will you not?”

  Achilles brightened. “I will.”

  “Grab your weapons. Meet me at the sand pit.”

  The young warrior thrust his arm triumphantly in the air. “I love fighting!”

  Chiron twitched his tail and narrowed his eyes as Achilles ran off to gather his weapons. “Exactly what I’m afraid of. Too much fighting, not enough reasoning.”

  LATE INTO THE afternoon, the centaur clashed wooden sword to wooden sword with his ambitious pupil. “Keep your shield up young master! Up I say!” Chiron landed a heavy blow to Achilles’ shield and the boy stumbled backwards.

  “Ha! You will not unbalance me twice!” Achilles charged at Chiron, who rose up on his hind legs avoiding the onslaught. “You cannot do that!”

  “I just did.”

  “It is not fair,” Achilles said, lowering his sword and shield slightly. Chiron pressed forward and used the tip of his wooden blade to press his ward to the hot sand at the exposed shoulder.

  “Nothing is fair in battle, Achilles. Best to remember that.”

  Achilles rubbed his shoulder and winced slightly. “Yes, I will remember.” He stood and spun and slammed his sword into Chiron’s hairy shin bone. The centaur reared up in pain. “I will remember to never trust a centaur!” Achilles laughed at landing the trickster blow.

  Chiron landed heavily, sending a shower of sand into the air. As Achilles shielded his eyes, the centaur reached for the boy’s shoulders just as he was backing away. “You will pay for that young master.”

  “I was hoping so!” Achilles jeered. “Now, fight me again!” Achilles spun from under his teacher’s grasp and quickly took his attack stance.

  Chiron’s smile lifted on one side revealing a straight bridge of teeth. “As you wish.”

  Wooden blades clashed and splintered in the hot sun. Master and student fought until they were both drenched in sweat. Dried salt tipped the ends of Chiron’s curly tufts below his chest. The centaur thrust his weapon at the young warrior who blocked the practice blade with his shield. When Achilles found himself backed against the sand pit wall, he knew he had to do the unexpected. He dove beneath the centaur’s legs, tucked into a roll and sprung back to fighting form before his master could turn around.

  “Clever!” Chiron shouted and lowered guard. “I believe we are finished for this day.”

  “You are tired? I have energy yet.”

  Chiron snorted. “Go run then. Take the hounds. Run until you have exhausted yourself. If that is even possible. I have matters requiring my attention.”

  Achilles threw his practice armor into the sand. “If you say so, Chiron.”

  “Stay out of trouble this time. And by the balls of my brother Zeus, stay away from the other centaurs. They would just as soon roast you like a plump lamb and stuff you with dates than endure further harassment at your hands.”

  Achilles promised, sort of, “I will try to stay out of their way. But if one should cross my path, especially that Batilamus, I might have to—”

  Chiron crossed his arms over his broad chest and cocked his head. “I will roast you myself young master.”

  “You take my joy, Chiron.”

  “My intent exactly.” His hoof dug into the sand. “Off with you.” He watched the golden warrior scamper off and twitched his tail. “There will be no taming that one.”

  ACHILLES RETURNED DRENCHED in sweat just after the light of Apollo had slipped from the sky. He peeled his damp chiton over his shoulders and tossed it carelessly on the floor. From the dark Chiron spoke, “Have I not told you about strewing your clothes about the floor?”

  Achilles nerves were already steel cords running through him. He didn’t startle at hi master’s words. “Why do you hide in the dark?”

  Chiron emerged partially into the dim light of the cave hall. “You answer my question with a question?”

  “You ar
e always sneaking away into the dark.”

  “I am not sneaking away. I am...resting.”

  “Why should you need so much rest? I thought you an immortal beast. Insatiable.”

  “Once upon a time, I was.”

  “Then you are not immortal?”

  “No. Not any longer.”

  Achilles grew curious. “Why does everyone say that you are?”

  “Immortality can be a curse, young Master. It came to be so for me. Quite by accident, but none the less, there it is.”

  “Tell me how it happened? Did it hurt? I mean, losing your immortal soul?”

  Chiron stomped a hoof against the stone floor. “There is not much to tell.”

  “I would hear it, if you will tell it.” Achilles sat on a hard stone bench.

  The centaur’s hooves clicked against the floor as he entered the main chamber. Achilles could see that he was limping. “Is your leg bothering you?”

  “You have yet to pick up the filthy garment. And you expect a tale?”

  “Chiron, you steal my joy,” Achilles said, as he scooted from the bench and retrieved his clothing. “There. I have done as you asked.” He sat back down still clutching his rumpled chiton.

  “Very well, then. I suppose you know of my...origin?”

  “I only know you call yourself brother to Zeus.”

  “Because he is. His father and mine are the same. My mother was sea nymph, like yours. She was taken unwillingly by Cronus.”

  “What was her name? Does she know of my mother?”

  “Philyra,” he said. His mouth formed the sound of her name like a foreign word slipping from his tongue. “It is likely they have met, I suppose.”

  “But how did you turn out to be a centaur?” Achilles’ eyes rounded. He immediately worried that having a nymph for a mother would result in him changing form. “Will I become a centaur?”

  Chiron’s laughter rang through the cave hall. “That is what you fear? Turning centaur?”

  “Our mothers were both nymphs, I thought...”

  “That is irrelevant, young Master. My form comes from my mother’s attempt to escape from Cronus’ grasp. She changed into a mare trying to flee. She was unsuccessful and Cronus took her as a horse...and, I am thus.” Chiron held his arms wide. “I was born a centaur and granted immortality.”

  Fascinated, Achilles asked, “What happened?”

  “Apollo raised me for neither my mother nor father wanted to do so.”

  “And you were immortal so they could not just kill you,” Achilles blurted out.

  Chiron mused, “True enough.” He twitched his tail. “Apollo was generous with his gifts.”

  “Is that why you know so much about the world? From the god?”

  “It is.”

  “How did you lose your immortal power?”

  “Herakles.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “So many questions. One of his poisoned arrows grazed my arm. The poison bound my body with great pain. Although I could not die, I wished to. It was a rather terrible experience. Herakles, feeling guilty I suppose, petitioned the gods to free me of my immortality. Herakles exchanged my gift for Prometheus’ freedom. The pain, although not as unbearable as it was, continues until I pass to the Underworld.”

  “That is why you require rest?”

  “That is why, young Master.”

  “You knew Herakles?” Achilles asked in awe.

  “Quite a knack for getting into trouble. Not unlike another boy I know,” Chiron hinted with a smirk.

  “Ah! You do not mean me, do you?”

  “Achilles, I have never known anyone to wind up in more predicaments than you.”

  The young prince hung his head, slightly shamed, “I am not so bad, am I?”

  The centaur cantered to his young pupil and ruffed up his matted golden-hair. “Make no mistake...I rather enjoy your company even if my fur begins to streak with silver.”

  TRAILS LINED THE foothills of Mt. Pelion where Chiron trained Achilles. “Run! Run as the wind young Master!” the centaur shouted over his shoulder at the young man keeping pace behind him. Chiron burst into full gallop, Achilles hard on his heel. They ran full force until they reached the edge of the plain. The centaur pulled up the pace.

  Achilles grabbed his sides and took a few deep breaths. “I could have over taken you, you know.”

  Chiron noted the absence of sweat. “Interesting.”

  “What?” the prince asked.

  “I believe you may be telling the truth.”

  “I never lie to you.” Achilles straightened up. “Well, mostly.”

  “That was an honest statement. Your lack of sweat tells me you did indeed hold back.”

  Achilles grinned mischievously. He pointed across the level plain stretching out before them. “Care to wager which of us can make it across there first?”

  Chiron glanced across the lengthy course. “What is the wager?”

  “You carry me back to the cave.”

  The centaur laughed. “You are heavy young Master. I will agree if you make the wager even.”

  Achilles sputtered a drink of water. “Carry you back? You weigh like a rock!”

  “I suggest you win, then.” Chiron pawed at the ground. “Ready, young master?”

  Achilles tossed his water pouch aside and took position next to his mentor. “Get ready to carry me all the way back.”

  Chiron reared up and shouted, “Catch me if you are able!” The centaur pounded the ground with heavy hooves sending showers of dirt and sand in Achilles’ direction.

  They ran with the wind at their backs, Achilles matching stride with the great beast. Chiron glanced over his shoulder. “Run!” he shouted. “Run!”

  Achilles needed no more encouragement than that. He kicked his heels higher so that his feet barely touched down on the ground. He ran as if inspired by fleet footed Hermes. The edge of the plain neared and Achilles finally pulled away from Chiron touching the edge of the plain in triumph.

  The centaur pulled up his hooves to break his speed, needing to catch his breath before speaking. “You are the first! Never has a man beat me in a foot race. Never.”

  “It is your training that gives me advantage,” Achilles grinned. “I am glad I won, because it is a long way back home.”

  Chiron heaved a heavy, tired sigh. “Climb up, young Master. We best begin.” He held his arm out to pull Achilles up.

  “Tell me about Herakles,” Achilles said.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Did you know him when he defended Hesione the Trojan princess?”

  “Yes, I did. That is a good tale young Master. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Leave nothing out.”

  Chiron began, “Hesione was a beautiful woman. Perhaps, the most beautiful woman to ever grace the city of Troy.”

  “You should know I suppose,” Achilles said. “If what I know of you is correct.”

  “Young master, I am chaste...for a centaur,” he laughed. “I thought you asleep when...” Chiron stopped. “Were you awake every time?”

  “Every single time,” Achilles confirmed with a lopsided smirk.

  Chiron narrowed his eyes. “You are a roguish one.”

  “I have been admonished often enough on that account. Continue the tale, please.” Achilles wished to draw attention away from his many misdeeds as quickly as possible.

  “Very well. King Laomedon’s daughter, Hesione, was a very well-respected Trojan. Let’s see, how does it go? Ah. The king had commissioned Apollo and Poseidon to assist Aeacus, your grandfather, in building the great wall around the city. The summer heat got the better of the king, or so many would like to think, but I believe Ares had a hand in it...regardless, the king refused to pay the gods. Apollo, of course, sent the usual plague, but Poseidon sent a creature never before seen by mortals, one that he awoke from the bottom of the sea. Plague and death spread throughout the city and when the sea monster appeared Kin
g Laomedon believed Troy doomed. And well he should have believed it. Really, what did he think would come of defying the gods?” Chiron asked aloud.

  Achilles was completely under the centaur’s spell. “He is fortunate Troy did not crumble beneath his feet.”

  The centaur agreed. “True. I have often wondered why the gods did not destroy the city. The king consulted the oracles, who told him that if he sacrificed his daughter, Hesione, to the sea monster the city would be saved. She was stripped of her garments and chained to an out cropping of rocks facing the sea. Imagine her humiliation. Stripped and chained by her very own father. Pitiful really. As it so happened, Herakles and Telamon, another son of Aeacus and your uncle, had returned from campaigning against the Amazons. Telamon was mortified to discover Hesione’s predicament. He had met her earlier, you see. Perhaps, a love affair. He never said. However, he had no means to fight against a sea monster such as Poseidon was sending. So, he wept. He actually wept. Quite pathetically I might add. This moved Herakles to action. The hero offered to save the princess if King Laomedon would give him the horses he received from Zeus. The king agreed. Herakles waited for the sea monster and the beast appeared all gnashing teeth and flailing tail, whipping the waves to frenzy. It swallowed Herakles in one gulp. He had to battle the beast from within. It took him three straight days to hack his way out of its belly, but he did save the Hesione. Laomedon refused to give up the horses. So, Herakles killed the king and all his sons, except for Priam. Herakles was so disgusted by the king’s lack of propriety; he refused to take the princess as compensation for the slight. I suppose he’d surmised that there was more between the princess and Telemon than had been revealed. He gave Hesione as scraps to Telamon and Priam became king of Troy.”

  “Priam just let his sister be taken away as captive bride? Without a fight on her behalf?” Achilles asked incredulously.

  “Did not even lift a finger. Priam is now an old man clinging to his Trojan throne. Zeus knows he has sons enough to retire to a life of ease in the country somewhere. His eldest, Hektor, is quite capable. But, Priam chooses not to step aside. And by the balls of my brother Zeus, the man has an appetite for women rivaling that of my own kind! There must be thirty or more sons claiming the king’s paternity.”