Rage of Queens (Homeric Chronicles Book 3)

by Janell Rhiannon

  Diomedes yelled, “Get on my chariot, old man. Together we will chase Hektor down.”

  Nestor leapt up to the platform despite his years, eager for vengeance. His old bones screamed, but his mind was bent on war.

  “Take the reins,” Diomedes roared in the old man’s ear.

  Nestor gripped the leather straps and snapped them across the horses’ backs. They surged forward, chasing at breakneck speed after Hektor. Diomedes leveled a spear at Hektor’s charioteer. His aim was true, and the Trojan fell from the chariot, sending up a dusty cloud. Another charioteer leapt to help his prince. Diomedes wheeled his chariot around, making another deadly pass at Hektor. A flash of blinding light hit the ground in front of his chariot, filling the air with the stench of rotting flesh.

  “By the gods,” Nestor screamed, dropping the reins in fright. “There will be no victory or glory for us today, Diomedes. We can’t fight the will of the gods.”

  “What are you doing, you fool?” The chariot careered wildly side to side. Diomedes grabbed the reins flopping against the side of the chariot. “What songs will our people sing if I abandon the fight now? That I cowered in fear before Hektor? I’d rather die than hear my humiliation as a camp song.”

  “No Greek will ever say that of you. Who cares what Trojans will say? The Trojan widows and fatherless boys know your skill.”

  From across a small distance, Hektor yelled after Diomedes’ retreating chariot, “You’ll never take Troy! You’ll never take our women. You’re a coward. Unworthy of glory.”

  Diomedes snapped the reins, urging the horses in retreat. “Easy for him to say when he knows Zeus favors him today.”

  Hektor’s voice boomed over the retreating enemy. He urged his men and the allies closest him to chase their retreating men. “Look! Zeus grants victory to us. The time is right to crash the wall they dared to build on our lands. Jump their ditch, whatever it takes. Set fire to their ships. Let the smoke choke out the light.” He turned to his charioteer and said, “If I can take Nestor’s shield and Diomedes’ breastplate, we may well scare these bastards to set sail for home.”

  ✽✽✽

  Watching from a secret place, Hera’s anger intensified. Gathering all her grace and power, she approached Poseidon. “Zeus may be lord of us, but we are gods after all. We have our own wills. How can you stand to watch Greek blood being spilled?”

  Poseidon shook his head. “You wonder why Zeus is always at your throat. Did you not hear him? He forbids it.”

  “I recall a time when you would not have shirked from such a challenge.”

  “Even gods may change.”

  “They bring you worthy gifts and sacrifices. I have seen the spark of satisfaction in your eyes when they honor you.”

  “Be quiet, Hera. Before your tongue drags us into war with Zeus over some mortals’ fucking conflict. They built that wall without proper sacrifices. They deserve to be put in their place. But I won’t risk Zeus’ justice.”

  Hera bristled at Poseidon’s indifference. “If you refuse to help them, I will risk the wrath of my husband.”

  Poseidon opened his arms to her. “By all means, provoke him. But leave me out of your devious plans.”

  Hera stormed off, leaving Poseidon to watch the skirmishes below.

  ✽✽✽

  As Hektor pushed the Greeks back toward their ships, Hera flew down to intervene. Moving like a cool breeze, she found Agamemnon standing bewildered on the deck of Odysseus’ beached ship. “We are trapped against the sea. We need a strategy or they will overrun what barricade we have.” Below, on the sand and around Agamemnon, men gathered to hear their orders.

  Agamemnon rubbed at the hair rising on his neck. “What is—”

  “Speak to them of courage lost. Did they not all brag to you of their prowess just one eve ago?”

  “Athena?” the Great King whispered in awe.

  “Hera.”

  “Zeus is on our side then, if you have come on his behalf.”

  “Remind your men of their wine-courage.”

  Agamemnon’s chest rose with renewed vigor and determination. Gathering his crimson cape in his arms, he signaled the army to gather near the ship. The signal was passed along the growing ranks filing toward the shore lined with their ships. They packed close together; the stench of their sweat and open, bleeding wounds stung Agamemnon’s nose.

  “Men,” he bellowed above the low chatter of voices filled with the fear of death and defeat. “Men, do not lose faith that the gods are with us.”

  The assembly quieted.

  “Tell us, Great King, what the gods intend,” a lone voice shouted.

  Men nodded, hopeful yet reserved.

  “Hera has whispered in my ear. We should take heart that Zeus will help us carry the day.”

  “Why do we lose?” another lone voiced rose up in question. “How does death surrounding us prove that?’

  “Where is your boldness now that the wine has drained from your bodies? How many of you bragged about the legions of Trojans you would slay before Apollo’s light faded? Yet, now you run in fear from the very men you swore in your cups to kill. Hear me, Zeus! We know that you are with us! You will not let them push us into the sea!”

  A cheer rose from the assembled men. Above them an eagle soared and dipped its wing toward the ground. Hundreds of voices whispered a single hope, “A god-sign.”

  The commanders—Odysseus, Diomedes, Ajax, and his brother, Teucer, son of Hesione—made their way to their men and headed out to face the Trojans. The thunder of their horses and rumble of thousands of foot soldiers sounded in the close distance.

  ✽✽✽

  Ajax and Teucer marshaled their troops, meeting a wave of Trojans. They fought side by side, shields blocking the deadly blows of spears and swords. The clash soon separated the brothers. Teucer found a broken chariot wheel to hide behind and pulled an arrow from his side quiver and nocked it, waiting for a chance to take lethal aim of Hektor. He waited patiently as Hektor’s chariot flew toward him. Teucer steeled his courage and his strength. In a flash, his arrow took flight, only to glance off the Trojan prince’s golden helm. He quickly nocked another arrow and let it fly; the arrow flitted like a moth and struck Hektor’s charioteer instead. His limp body fell from the platform, sending up a swirl of dust.

  A tall warrior leapt onto Hektor’s careening chariot and grabbed the reins. Teucer heard Hektor cry out the man’s name, “Kebriones!” Hektor jumped from his moving chariot, picking up a spear on the ground next to the body of a man who was not quite dead.

  To Teucer’s horror, the Trojan prince charged straight at him. His usually quick fingers fumbled with an arrow, as he tried to nock it. In a blink of his eye, Hektor’s spear smashed through the chariot wheel barrier and shattered his collarbone. Teucer screamed and fell back in agony. Hektor advanced like a bull. Out of the rising dust, a roar rose of such fierceness, Hektor stopped dead in his tracks. The hairs on Teucer’s body rose. “Please gods, let it be.”

  Ajax, flanked by two warriors, appeared with his spear readied, and blood in his eyes. “Hektor! We meet again.” Skidding to a halt at Teucer’s position, he used his giant shield to protect his younger brother. “You will have to take me first, before I will let you take my brother. Your cousin.”

  Hektor’s spear arm relaxed just slightly. “That could only be, Teucer. Hesione’s son.”

  A mighty roar rose from the Trojan ranks behind them. Hektor turned to his opponents. “Another time, Ajax. Seems we are close to breaking through your flimsy wall. Best prepare to die, or sail back across the sea.”

  ✽✽✽

  The noise of men drew Hera’s attention. Glancing down at the war below her heart raged as Trojans pushed into the Greek’s camp. No matter what she did, Zeus’ wishes prevailed. “Athena,” she whispered to herself. “She loves the Greeks.” She went in search of her daughter out.

  In an evergreen meadow surrounded by tall, swaying trees of oak and pine, Athena w
as tending to the owls of Olympus. “Greetings, Hera.” Athena did not turn to face her mother, but had seen Hera’s reflection the large, yellow eyes of the owl perched on her arm.

  “I am surprised to find you here,” Hera said.

  Athena turned around; the owl stretched its neck to see beyond Athena’s shoulder. “Why should it surprise you? You know I care for these creatures.”

  Hera approached slowly. The owls were wild, and unaffected by the gods’ power. “May I?” She lifted a slender hand to stroke the owl.

  “It is up to her.”

  Hera gently ran her fingers over the owl’s head. It closed its big eyes and fluffed up its feathers. “What is this one’s name?”

  “This is a Glaux.”

  “She does not seem so small.” The owl opened its eyes. Hera withdrew her hand. “Will you join me, daughter?”

  “If you have come to speak about the war, go back to the palace. Why do you think I spend my long days here? With the birds?”

  “What about the Greeks? They continue to make sacrifices and beg for your help. Will you keep turning a deaf ear to their pleas?”

  Athena pushed her arm up, encouraging the bird to fly to a nearby tree. “What would you have me do? Defy Zeus? Not all of us have the protections you do.”

  Hera took Athena by the elbow, steering her beneath a large oak. She glanced about them. “Your father, my husband, is doing all of this to honor his word to … Thetis. He loves her, because he cannot have her. I know this. You know this. We all know this, but he thinks we cannot see how he favors the nymph, whose wishes to hurt the Greeks we love.”

  “Because Achilles sulks like a child over a woman.”

  “Zeus allows the Trojans to pummel the Greeks time and time again, so Agamemnon will regret his decision. When he begs for Achilles to return, Achilles’ honor will be restored.”

  “So, he favors one side, while forbidding us from doing the same?”

  Hera smiled. “How is that fair? Are we not gods, as well?”

  “Odysseus,” Athena whispered. “How has he fared?”

  “You should see for yourself.”

  Athena knew the dangers, yet how could she allow her favorite patrons to suffer? “If I do this, Zeus will never forgive me.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “If we stand together, Mother, Hektor and his forces could not withstand us.”

  “No, he could not.”

  A breeze swept across the meadow, swirling about the conspiring goddesses. Their hair caught in the air. Their skin chilled. Their eyes locked, knowing they’d been discovered before they could enact any plans. “Athena,” a voice whispered. “Athena.”

  “Iris, what is your message?” Athena asked.

  Iris materialized before Hera and Athena. Her glittering silver robe floating about her as if in a sea. “You have angered Zeus, Athena. He bids me say this: I expect Hera to conspire against me, because she is conniving.”

  Hera bristled. “He brings it on himself.”

  “He bids me say: If you help the Greeks, if you go against me, I will send a deadly sickness to kill all the Greeks’ horses and livestock. I will allow sickness to kill them all. If you love the Greeks, then obey me.”

  The messenger flew off then, leaving Hera and Athena alone to consider the threat.

  “It is impossible to go against him. His eyes and ears surround us here,” Hera said, defeated.

  “What shall we do, Mother?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Upon returning to the crystal halls of Olympus, Zeus was already there, waiting. “Sit,” he commanded.

  The goddesses took their seats with apprehension, both fearing punishment. They avoided his eyes and did not utter a single word.

  Zeus’ silver hair floated about his face. Anger etched his sharp jaw. He was both mesmerizing and terrifying. “What is wrong with you, Hera? Athena? If you would have stepped a single sandal on that battlefield, I would have killed you before you had a chance to beg my mercy. Your disobedience would turn my heart iron against your pleas.”

  Athena looked up, meeting her father’s hard gaze, but she said nothing.

  Hera’s temper could not be contained. “You have the power to send us into dark oblivion or slavery. We know very well how you love to punish any of us at your whim. But you, dear husband,” bitterness dripped from her tongue, “you have underestimated how deeply some of us care for the Greeks. Your concern for Thetis and her son drives a wedge between us all.”

  Zeus growled and narrowed his eyes at his wife, a thin smile spreading across his face. “Defy me and you will wake to a bloodbath below. I will pluck the life of every Greek before you sip your nectar of the dawn. Know this, dear wife, Hektor’s fury will continue his victories until Achilles leaves the prison of his ship. And that will not happen until Patrokles’ death. Fate decrees the order of events. Even I cannot go against it. Rage against the stars. But all you will find is heartache and grief.”

  Hera clamped her mouth shut, her anger simmering just below the surface of her pale skin. “You always take everything from me. My love. My loyalty. And burn it down.”

  Zeus’ laughter filled the hall. He signaled Hephaestus’ mechanical women to serve the wine. “I wish to hear no more from either of you. I wish to enjoy Apollo dragging the light into the sea.”

  ✽✽✽

  TROJAN CAMP

  The dim of night spread across the sky. The fighting fell silent as men on both sides retreated to their camps and fires. Hektor surveyed his men from the platform of his chariot. The day’s battle had worn them down, despite the victories and ground covered. Every face was smudged with dirt and blood. He signaled the heralds. “We must camp here. We can’t chance heading back for the city gates. Make sure the wounded horses are tended. And set twice as many fires as needed. Let the Greeks believe our numbers are greater than what they are. They won’t be able to rest worrying about the morning’s fight.”

  The messengers sprinted off to spread Hektor’s commands.

  Hektor grabbed one young boy by the elbow. “Is your mind sharp?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Are your feet quick?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Do you love Troy?”

  “Aye, Prince Hektor.”

  “I need you to run straight for the city gates. Don’t stop. Tell the king to gather all the old men and brave boys, like you, and set fires along the ramparts of the Great Wall. Can you carry that message?”

  “Aye.”

  Hektor ruffled the boy’s tangled hair. “I pray Astyanax grows to be as daring as you. Now, go. Run as if your life depended on it.” The boy took off in a sprint. “Run,” Hektor shouted after the boy, as he disappeared into the darkness.

  Hektor had hoped that today would be the day the war ended, but victory eluded him once again. If the boy made it, and the fires were lit, maybe the Greeks would lose sleep as he planned and tomorrow would be the day. He couldn’t fathom how much longer Troy could hold out, or the Greeks could keep fighting. Surely, the end of days approached both sides.

  ✽✽✽

  TROJAN PALACE

  Hecuba held Astyanax in her lap. She kissed the black curls on top of his head. “He reminds me much of Hektor, when he was a babe. The seasons have passed so quickly, yet I can recall them so readily.”

  “I pray my son grows up with his father at his side. As Hektor has had Priam.”

  “I pray the same, Andromache.”

  “I only wish he had brothers to keep him company.”

  “There is yet time.” The lie slipped easily from her tongue. She knew the anguish Andromache suffered to carry children. She placed a hand on the hardening bulge gifted her by Apollo. “The gods show favors at the oddest of times.”

  “Do you think there is a chance that the Greeks might breech the wall?”

  “I try not to think of that
outcome.” Cassandra’s warnings rang in her ears. The ancient prophecy continued unfolding before her eyes, no matter what her efforts were. In the end, even Hektor’s bravery and victories produced no clear and final victory.

  Andromache persisted. “My mother told me of the heinous deeds of Achilles and his army.”

  The queen set her grandson down to crawl on a blanket. “He’ll be walking soon enough.”

  “Achilles will show us no mercy.”

  Hecuba reached for Andromache’s hand. “I have no intention of being taken by that murderer. And neither will you. Besides, he has withdrawn from the war.”

  “For how much longer?” Andromache knelt beside her son on the floor. “How can you be certain of your fate?”

  “Apollo has promised me that Achilles will die.”

  “Before or after Hektor is forced to face him? Mother, we both know that every day it comes closer to that. And I am afraid, because I don’t know who the gods will favor.”

  Hecuba understood Andromache’s fear all too well. The gods had no answer for her, other than Apollo. It was all she clung to as each day passed, that it would be Achilles’ last. “All that is clear to me is that Achilles will never see his home again. We must pray that Hektor does.”

  ✽✽✽

  Helen reclined on a couch on her balcony. Crickets chirped softly. Dogs barked in the distance. The orange light from oil lamps glowed in windows and small fires burned in clay pots near refugee tents. The faint smell of jasmine and shit filled the air. It was the smell of siege war. When the city began to fill with the destitute, they were easily absorbed into life in the citadel. But, now, there were too many. Men relieved themselves in dark corners, and sometimes not so dark corners. Women emptied piss pots wherever they could. Helen was grateful for the manicured gardens with fragrant flowers and vines below the chamber she and Paris shared. Otherwise, the stench would be too much to bear.