Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

by Janell Rhiannon

  “I could have done that,” Pirithous said.

  “What were you waiting for?”

  “Nothing.” Pirithous shook his head. “No dagger. Use a dagger. Kill. Not yet. Make up your fucking mind Theseus. You change it like a woman changes hers upon dressing.”

  “Shut your mouth, Pirithous. Did you make the ship ready? Keep it secret?”

  “Aye, captain I did.” Pirithous mocked his friend. “We need to move before the guards realize something is amiss, or her damn brothers come after us.”

  The two kidnappers ran into the darkness with their captive. Helen’s limp body jostled roughly as Theseus dodged low hanging tree limbs and thick brush. He feared she’d wake, but couldn’t slow his pace. They mounted the horses and Theseus lifted Helen in front of him and laid her across the beast’s back. He dug his heels into the horse’s ribs and into the night they flew at break neck speed toward the ship that would wing them all the way to Athens where they’d be forced to travel by road to safety in Aphidnae and his mother to the north.

  AETHRA SHOOK HER head in disbelief, half mortified and half impressed with her son. “A daughter of Sparta, you say? That is quite a feat.”

  “A daughter of Zeus.”

  “Even more impressive.”

  “She is captive for now. Bride soon enough,” said Theseus.

  “By the look of her, she should bleed soon.”

  “And when she does, I will take what I am owed by the gods! She must remain hidden until then. If her family discovers her here,” he drew closer to his mother, “they will raze the city to the ground. No one will be safe.”

  His mother asked, “Do you not intend to return to Athens? Have you not been absent long enough? Had adventure enough?”

  “You may be mother to me, but you have no right to pelt me with questions,” Theseus replied sharply.

  “My concern is only for my son. For Athens.”

  “I have a promise to keep on Pirithous’ account. He has his sights set on even more deadly prey than this slip of a girl.”

  “Who is more challenging than this creature?” Aethra asked.

  Theseus moved closer still and pressed his lips to her ear, “The wife of Hades.”

  His mother gasped. “How does he expect to pluck a prisoner of the Underworld right from under the god’s nose?”

  “We have not yet considered all aspects.”

  “You do not have a plan? A strategy?” Aethra stepped back into a chair and collapsed. “Truly you must cease all this trespassing across the world. There are consequences for disrupting the course of the things, for trying to dislodge what is, for what you desire.”

  “Mother, you worry needlessly. We will distract Hades and pull Persephone back to the world she belongs to.” Theseus assured her.

  “So many things can go wrong. If he catches you. If you fail to convince her. Make no mistake, Hades will kill you both, or worse.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps, not. Have you considered that perhaps Hades is tired of a woman nagging him through the course of the day?”

  “There are times it pains me to listen to your thoughts. These misguided notions of yours will be your demise. Mark my words.”

  Theseus kissed his mother’s cheek. “There is nothing to worry about.”

  “There is always something to worry about. Life is not so easy.”

  “Take care of the girl until I return. She can help you with the chores.”

  Aethra laughed. “Unlikely. I doubt the girl has ever seen the inside of a cooking pot.”

  “Mother,” Theseus chided.

  “I jest, my son. Yes, yes I will keep her under watchful eye. If that is what you desire.”

  “It is.”

  “Consider it done, then.” Aethra approached the girl. “Come child. You have no need to fear me.” She extended her hand to Helen. She watched as the captive bride looked from the ground to her out stretched palm. Helen’s glare revealed defiance, not fear.

  “Where do you take me,” Helen asked cautiously.

  “To a bath. You reek of sweat and horse.”

  IN THE MORNING, Helen woke in a strange bed tangled in linen. She propped herself up and surveyed the room. She expected the mother of a king to be well-tended, and was surprised to find she lived modestly rather than lavishly. Theseus’ mother yet slept in the larger bed across the room, so Helen quietly slipped out of hers. She walked to the window and looked out on mountains and hills that seemed familiar, yet she knew they were foreign to her. Please, Aphrodite, help me. Artemis guard me. Athena defend me. Helen wiped her finger across the window’s narrow ledge and wrinkled her nose at the fine dust and dirt that stuck to her skin. “She needs a maid servant.”

  “That’s what you are for, young miss,” said a voice behind her.

  Helen’s back stiffened. To be made queen unwillingly was one thing, but to be made to serve this old hag was quite another. “I am afraid I will disappoint you mother of Theseus the kidnapper.” Helen’s venom sounded sweet enough, but the words struck their mark as she intended.

  The old woman flew across the across the room in an instant rage and stood over Helen with hand raised to strike her insolence. “Your speed belies your age, old woman,” Helen laughed. “You would do best not to strike a princess of Sparta.”

  “You are nobody here in this house except my maid servant. You would do best to keep your wicked little tongue inside your mouth.”

  Helen smiled. “I believe I will speak as I wish. Lay a hand to me and—”

  Aethra swiped a heavy hand across Helen’s cheek. “And what will you do? You best learn your place.”

  Helen stood amazed that the old woman had nerve enough to actually land the strike, and was surprised at the sting but remained unmoved and undeterred. She seethed at the rough treatment and it hardened her resolve to stay strong and not give in to these Cretans of Athens. She knew her father would be searching for her and would eventually find her.

  “Get to the kitchen. I will show you how to prepare the morning meal.”

  “I do not cook.”

  “You will if you intend to eat, girl.”

  “Helen. My name is Helen.”

  Aethra grabbed Helen’s chin squeezing her cheeks together so roughly that her mouth contorted and her lips burned. “You will not utter that name again in this house. When my son gives the order, you will be claimed. Until then, you remain silent about who you are and where you came from. Or I will slit your throat myself.”

  Helen stared hatefully, but nodded understanding. Aphrodite, grant me vengeance on this old hag. She followed the old woman to the kitchen.

  Aethra handed Helen small basket. “Go gather the eggs.”

  “Gather eggs?”

  “Are you deaf, child?”

  “No. I do not know how to gather...eggs.” The thought of putting her hands next to filthy hens disgusted her. She shuddered.

  “Erika!” Aethra hollered. In moments a middle aged woman stood in the entryway. “Take this girl out to the hens. See she learns how to gather eggs. If she gives trouble, you have my permission to hit her. She has not quite learned her place.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Erika glanced at Helen with a small measure of compassion. “Let’s go child.”

  “I am no child,” Helen said tersely.

  “Good. You will learn quickly then. Come.” Erika led the way across the court and down a small dirt trail to a small field settled with a large wooden hutch. Helen watched as a few hens pecked the hard ground while others nestled quietly in the grass. Brown and mottled hens flapped about and in and out of the hutch.

  “Where do they put their eggs?” Helen asked.

  Erika laughed. “They don’t put them anywhere. They lay them.” She pointed to the hutch. “There or sometimes they nest about in the field if they feel safe enough.”

  “That should make gathering their eggs easy.”

  “Mostly. Strange you haven’t knowledge of a farm?”

  “True, I do n
ot.”

  “You’ve been a household slave then?” Erika asked pleasantly.

  Helen glared at the maid. “I have never been a slave to anyone.”

  Erika shrugged. “Well, young miss, you are now in the service of the queen mother.”

  “Yes, I have had taste of her mastery,” Helen spat on the ground.

  “I wouldn’t let Lady Aethra hear you speak in that tone. She’ll beat you. Mind me now. She’ll beat you and have no remorse.”

  “I am not afraid of her.”

  “You should be young miss,” Erika warned. “We’d best gather the eggs. Lady Aethra will want her breakfast soon.” Erika entered the hutch carrying the basket. Helen followed on her heel. It was dark and musty.

  Helen wrinkled her nose. “It smells of shit and old hay.”

  “You’ll get used to it. Here, watch me.” Erika put her hand into a pile of dried hay and pulled three dark brown eggs. “Now, you get that nest there.”

  Helen put her hand just under the piled straw and pulled an egg out. “There is bird shit on it.” She heaved and wiped her fingers on her apron. “I will never eat another egg as long as I live.”

  “You’re a strange child. Yes, you will, if you’re hungry enough.”

  “I will never be that hungry.”

  “How can you be so unfamiliar with—oh no. Not again.”

  “What is the matter?” Helen asked, keeping her arms close to her sides.

  “That hen there. She’s trying to hatch her eggs again.”

  “That is not her purpose? To hatch eggs by sitting on them. That much I have heard.”

  “How do you not know about hens? I suppose you know very little about any of this.”

  “Nothing would be more accurate.” Helen leaned too close to the stubbornly nested hen and it growled and clucked at her. Helen aimed to strike the bird—

  “No! Don’t!” yelled Erika. As Helen brought her hand down, the hen flapped its wings at her; growling and pecking at her hand and arm. Helen screeched. All the hens startled and began flapping about in the hutch. Feathers and dust flew. Helen screamed louder and batted at the frantic birds failing to achieve flight. Erika laughed so hard tears streamed down her cheeks. She managed to push Helen from the hutch, still laughing.

  “You are a pretty one. Fair even with tangles and feathers in your hair,” Erika’s wide smile threatened to burst into laughter again.

  Helen fumed. “Do not mock me, peasant.”

  The insult sucked the air from Erika’s amusement. “Peasant did you say? I’d be careful, young miss, who I called a peasant in this house.” Erika closed the space between them and slapped Helen so hard a red imprint of her hand stained the girl’s cheek. “Not all of us began as low born.”

  The slap stung Helen’s face and her pride. No one had ever dared strike her in her life, and this made the second time in a single day. She put her hand to her cheek to comfort herself. “Do not ever touch me again.”

  “Speak no more insults and I’ll have no need.” Erika turned on her heel and walked back to the main house, leaving Helen standing there to make her own way.

  AN ENTIRE MOON had passed since Helen disappeared. And now Pollux and Castor, followed by an army of angry Spartans, waited impatiently outside the city of Athens. Clouds darkened the sky as they looked for the messenger’s return.

  “Why does the man leave us lingering? They must have an answer. It is either yes or no,” Pollux said, as he reined his horse in to calm it.

  “They have much to consider, brother. Either we burn this fucking place to the ground now...or later,” Castor answered. “They have knowledge of Helen’s whereabouts. Of that I am certain.”

  “Lies have fallen from every lip trailing Theseus,” Pollux added.

  “Truth. That these imbeciles yet gather behind him is a wonder. His youthful glory has passed into a reckless old age.”

  Pollux pointed toward the road. “Look, there. A rider approaches.”

  The messenger pulled his horse up at a short distance from the brothers. “I bring you word from the city. Your sister is not within.”

  “Your response is late. Why not say so from the beginning?” Pollux asked.

  “I am the messenger. It is not my place to answer for the Council.”

  “And where is your king?” Castor asked.

  “Theseus has been long absent from Athens.”

  The brothers consulted each other with their eyes. Confirming neither believed a word. Pollux spoke, “This is troublesome news.” He urged his mount forward. “We know Theseus took our sister. You leave us very little choice.”

  “Please, the Council assures you that Helen is not here.”

  Castor sneered. “You do not have her, you say. You do not know where your king is, you say. What polis knows not the whereabouts of its king and commander?”

  “If Helen was within, the Council would return her with deepest apology. She is not within. That is all I know.”

  The brothers looked to each other, nodded. Pollux spoke, “Prepare for war.”

  The pronouncement caused the messenger to lose balance on his horse. The brothers laughed at his shock. As the rider rode off, dirt flying like rain behind his horse, Castor roared, “We will burn Athens to the ground!”

  Pollux shrugged. “We best prepare the men for a short fight.”

  “No battle is ever short brother.”

  MOST OF ATHENS lay in a ruin of ash and smoke while the brothers reassembled their infantry. The Athenian defense was stronger than expected from a bunch of farmers and potters, but no match in the end for Spartans.

  Castor wiped the grime and sweat from his eyes. “We rest for the night. Feed the men.”

  “Agreed.” Pollux twisted on his horse trying to see his back. “A fucking arrow nicked my shoulder. Cannot believe those bastards actually hit me! Fucking Athenians.”

  “See yourself to the wounded camp. Get that shit cleaned and tended.”

  “I will see you after,” Pollux said, as he rode off.

  Castor made it to his tent and dismounted handing the reins to a waiting slave. “Make sure the horse is rubbed down properly and fed. We begin again at first light.” The slave nodded silently. Dinner had been prepared for the princes and spread out in lavish manner. Castor sat down and a serving woman poured his wine.

  “You are unknown to me. What do they call you?” he asked.

  Startled at being addressed directly, the woman spilled the wine on the table. “Apologies, my lord.” She quickly wiped the mistake into her apron.

  “There is none necessary,” he said, as she stepped into the shadows. “What do they call you?”

  “Reah, my lord.”

  “Reah. Come into the light.” The woman approached cautiously. Castor caught a glimpse of her form in the corner of his eye. “Come closer.” Reah obeyed. “How long have you been in service to my family? I assume you were taken from the palace.”

  “No, my lord.”

  Castor puzzled over her response. “You were not in service or not from the palace. Speak up,” Castor encouraged firmly.

  “Neither.”

  “Then...?”

  “I am from Athens. Newly brought to camp.”

  Castor turned to face her. She didn’t appear to be mistreated. He took notice of her womanly attributes; the curve of her breasts and hips pleased him. She’ll make fine company for me this night. “It is good you were spared. We will not relent until our sister is returned.” The prince returned his attention to his meal.

  “My lord, may I speak?”

  “Yes. And pour more wine.”

  Reah poured the libation and spoke candidly, “There is one in Athens who may know where your sister has been taken.”

  Just then the tent flap flew open as Pollux entered. “I am famished!” he announced loudly. “Look at you brother. Eating without me!” He sat down heavily on a bench, grabbed a hunk of meat from a platter, took an enormous bite and spoke with his mouth full,
“Tomorrow, we raze what remains of this fucking polis to the ground!” He lifted his empty cup. “Wine!” Reah stepped forward to pour. Pollux captured her wrist in his free hand. “And who is this nymph?”

  Reah froze.

  “She is from Athens. New to camp,” Castor said casually.

  “You have already claimed this tempting morsel for yourself, I see.”

  “I have said nothing.”

  “We are brothers! She is a fine choice. Take her she is yours.” Pollux slapped Reah hard on her buttocks. “More wine woman!”

  “How is your shoulder?” Castor asked, taking the conversation in a different direction.

  Pollux swung his arm around in a circle. “As if it were never injured. The physician said it was but a scratch. Bade me pray to Apollo for inspiration and healing.”

  “Then you would do well to follow his advice,” Castor said. “I have word there is one within Athens who may aid us in recovering Helen.”

  “Well, spill the news,” Pollux said, again shoving meat and bread in his mouth washing it down with a hearty gulp of wine. “Speak.”

  Castor motioned Reah to the table. “Tell us what you know.”

  Reah licked her lips nervously. “I don’t know if he will know for certain. But if anyone were to possess the knowledge, it would be Academus. He is always privy to secrets within the polis.”

  “Then, we will summon him,” Pollux said. “Titus!”

  Immediately, a stout bearded man entered the tent. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Find this Academus from Athens. Bring the secret monger to us. We would have words with him about Helen.”

  Titus nodded and slipped from sight out into the night. Reah retreated into the darkness, just outside the vision of the brothers but within earshot.

  THE HOURS PASSED into early evening, the brothers reveling in their war, before the messenger returned with the wanted man. Titus shoved Academus into the dimming fire light of the princes’ tent. “Here is your man my lords.”