Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) (31 page)

Helen lifted her brothers to their feet. “Only out of love for a sister shall either of you ever serve me.” She kissed them on the cheek. “I accept your protection.”

A rowdy cheer ascended toward the heavens ushering in a new era for Sparta, a future era tangling the world with oaths and gold and blood.

PRIAM STOOD ON
the balcony facing the ocean and stared out into the vast expanse of blue. This morning, images of Hesione haunted him with his eyes wide open. A voice whispered to him in his sleep that he should send for her. A god-sign he knew.
What has it been? Years? A lifetime?
He remembered her blue gown fluttering in the hot breeze of summer, her hair in disarray as Herakles hauled her off to his great ship, only to be handed over to Telemon. She’d turned her head to search for him and their eyes had met. He blinked to wipe the memory of his lost sister from his mind, but her image remained. His courage had faltered. The price of cowardice, his son. Priam paced the balcony, rubbing his bearded chin as he lost time and place.

“Are you well, Priam?” Hecuba asked. “It is unlike you to linger here after you have taken your husband’s rights.”

Priam pulled himself from thought. He looked at his wife. She was yet beautiful and he still ached for what they had lost. A painful, lonely distance remained between them, although it had lessened since the return of the Forgotten Prince. “Do you not wish for it to be as it was, my love?”

“That was years ago Priam, when we were young and unscathed by this life.”

“The wrong has been long since corrected. I would give up all others, if you would but take me to heart again.”

Hecuba took his hands in hers and raised them to her lips. She kissed his fingers. “Priam, my dear companion, you must always be the king before all else, including me. When I was younger, I did not quite comprehend the cost of this for myself. For us. I believed, naively so, that our love would see us through all things. But it only brought us pain. A pain that nearly killed me upon rising each day. I will not risk that agony again. So no, I have no wish for us to return to times past.” She released his hands.

Priam’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Hecuba’s words rang with a truth he couldn’t deny. He would always be king first. His one true mistress would always be the great citadel and her lands. If called to make a similar decision, again, he would have to obey the gods to protect Troy. He sighed, “You are right, my love, to keep your walls around your heart.”

Hecuba nodded. “We are friends, are we not?”

“We are.”

The queen looped her arm through his. “I know something troubles you. Do you wish to speak of it?”

Priam looked out across the sea again. “I am troubled by the memory of Hesione’s capture. That day, hardly a man yet, and I lost my entire family to Herakles.”

“You are thinking of her return, are you not?”

His dream again came to mind. “I am. Antenor and Anchises failed, but perhaps...Paris may succeed.”

Hecuba stiffened. “Why send Paris? He is but newly made welcome in Troy.”

“He has yet to accomplish anything of merit in the eyes of the people. If he were to bring back a lost daughter of Troy, he would be elevated in their eyes. He would be truly accepted as a Prince of Troy.” He faced his wife. “As he should have always been.”

“YOU HAVE BEEN
absent from my side for almost an entire moon. Has all thought of us fled your memory?” the nymph complained.

“No. You and our son have been ever on my mind,” Paris said.

“Why the delay home?” She noticed Paris stiffen at her inquiry.

“Much has happened, Oenone.” Aphrodite’s voice echoed in his mind...
it is time Paris, it is time...

Oenone held her hand out for Paris to take. “Come my love, let’s walk and talk. Tell me all.” But he did not take her hand. Instead, he walked along side her careful to stay half a step in front.

“My father has asked me to travel to Salamis. To negotiate the return of his sister, my aunt, Hesione.”

Oenone plucked a long blade of grass as they passed by it. “She has been hostage long enough to call Salamis home. What if she has no desire to return to Troy?”

“She belongs in Troy. She was taken as a prisoner. Why would she wish to remain among foreigners?”

Oenone shrugged in silence. She had no answer for her husband.

Paris stopped walking. He faced Oenone. “Are you happy with this life?”

“We have lived in peace for many seasons. The River flows. Our son thrives.”

“And you have no wish to live in Troy? Ever?” Paris asked in earnest.

“None. You know this. I belong to my world. And you with us.”

They came to the sacred tree of their vows. Paris stopped. He turned to face Oenone. The truth felt like a lump of bread too dry to swallow without aid of wine. “Oenone…I…”

Clouds filled the sky casting shadows on the green hills as they passed overhead; the gloomy light a foreboding of the murky future shrouded by dreams. A tremor passed beneath Oenone’s bare feet. She knew her world was shifting.

“The ship is already prepared. They wait only for my return to set sail. I must go. You know this,” Paris said quietly.

“Will you return? To us?” The whispers of premonitions past ignited her dormant fears. The birds ceased their songs. The wind riders with delicate wings of thin gossamer dropped like autumn leaves around the meadow. The nymph searched her husband’s face for comfort. Tears spilled. She couldn’t bear the thought of living without him.

Without answering her, Paris kissed his wife. They looked at each other, grief and tears mingling. He clung to her. She’d been the home of his heart. He knew that he must collect Aphrodite’s gift, or risk offending her. Paris knew it was no coincidence the Priam’s command and Aphrodite’s words collided. He knew he must obey his father, King Priam and the goddess. How could he tell Oenone he would return with another? The one she’d feared for so long in her dreams. He tried to walk away, but found he couldn’t. He called her back again for another last kiss.

“There is no wind,” he said.

“My love, the men will be calling out for you to join them soon,” Oenone said.

“I am afraid...,” he said.

Just then, the wind picked up, a gentle breeze stirred the air. Paris knew his wife was right. His crew would be waiting impatiently for his boarding so they could catch the fair winds across the Aegean. Finally, he broke from her embrace and made the long journey back to the dock and his waiting crew.

From afar, Oenone watched the bright blue sail of his ship billow in the breeze. The oarsmen dug deep and swift into the piercing blue water, white foam churning with every stroke. Oenone allowed herself to weep now. She held a thread of hope that Paris’ love would sustain this distance, this test of faith. She prayed her premonitions false.

“Nereids of the sea, bring him back safely to me,” she prayed into the salty air whipping her hair across her face. “Bring his love back to us.”

CASSANDRA STOOD ON
the rampart of the great wall of Troy next to Hecuba watching the ship carrying Paris to far distant Greece. Moved by Apollo’s curse, she spoke, “He will bring the doom of Troy.”

Hecuba crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “You speak of evils long since proven false. He brings not doom, but renewed hope for Troy.” The two women remained side by side watching the ship until it fell from sight behind the line where the sea met the sky.

The priestess wiped a bright tear from her cheek. “I speak the truth, but you will not hear me.”

“I lost Paris when he was just a babe. I will not let the gods frighten me with their riddles and false dreams again.”

HELEN HANDED THE
baby to the wet nurse. “I believe the child is hungry. She pushes her face to my breast.”

The wet nurse took the baby and cooed at its soft fussing. “There little Hermione, little princess.” She opened her gown and the babe hungrily latched on to the large nipple and quickly calmed.

Helen watched her daughter suckle at the other woman’s bosom. She had believed a child would bring her happiness with Menelaus, but she had been wrong. The young queen sighed heavily and looked out her window to the hills beyond the palace. She yearned for a different life. Sparta served more as prison than as home. When Menelaus took the crown as king, the freedom she’d enjoyed since childhood shrank to the palace grounds. Now, her days were marked with endless thoughts of escape to live a life of her choosing, not one the fat king dictated.

“I am told we have guests this evening, my lady,” the wet nurse said.

The queen leaned against the ledge. “We do. I hear a Prince of Troy has arrived with horses as gifts for my husband.”

The wet nurse rocked the child in her arms as she nursed it. Her experienced hand swept the baby’s forehead to lull the tiny princess to sleep as her royal belly filled. “Aye. I hear the horses are almost as magnificent as the prince himself.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “The horses merit such praise?”

“Aye. So I’ve heard.”

“I should see them for myself. Perhaps one will be a suitable match for Hermione.” Helen adjusted her hair in the polished silver mirror and smiled. “You have care of the princess.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Helen swept through the door as she spoke, “I should see that Aethra has the hall properly prepared.”

With her mistress gone, the wet nurse looked down into the baby’s face and kissed her soft pink cheek. “You’re too young for a horse sweet face. Too young. If I know your mother...well, no mind then.”

PARIS BRUSHED THE
tawny hide of the mare until the silver undertone shimmered. “You are a pretty girl.” He patted her neck gently.

“She is,” a voice behind him sounded as music in his ears.

The prince turned to find a woman with eyes as pale green as a shallow sea staring at him. “She is for the queen. Queen Helen.”

“Interesting. I had not heard you would be bringing gifts to the house of Menelaus. You were headed to...Salamis was it not? To rescue the dusty crone Hesione.”

Guilt at his failure made him look to the dirt and straw beneath his feet. “She is family. I have failed in her regard. And when I return, I shall have to face the reflection of that failure in my father’s eyes.”

“I see. Family is...important for many reasons.”

Paris couldn’t help but notice the golden blondness of her hair. The perfection of her skin. “Family is all things relevant to life.”

“There is a feast in your honor this evening. Hospitality demands nothing less that a feast for a Prince of Troy.”

“Will I see you there?” Paris asked.

Helen walked to the horse and ran her hand down the mare’s elegant neck. “She is a fine beast.” The horse nuzzled Helen’s shoulder and she smiled coyly. “The queen will be pleased.”

MEN LAUGHED. WOMEN
laughed. The silver strings of lyres and joyful song filled the air. Paris was into his second bowl of wine, when all sound ceased as the herald announced the queen’s entrance. His eyes fell on the golden beauty from the stables. He nodded to her.
Of course
. The merriment resumed as she entered and took her place in between to her husband, King Menelaus and the guest of honor. Paris lifted the hammered silver bowl to his lips. A voice whispered seductively—
She is yours. Take her
. The hair on Paris’ arm stood on end. He knew the voice. “Aphrodite?” the name barely audible as it passed over his lips
. It is
. “I cannot,” he said
. You can
.

Menelaus asked, “What can you not do?”

“Nothing. It is nothing!” Paris laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. “Let us drink until we fall where we stand!” Again, Aphrodite spoke—
She is yours. Take her
.

Helen took the shared vessel between herself and Paris and raised it to her lips. “We meet again.”

“It was an unfair advantage, my lady. I did not know who you were.”

“Do I sense disappointment?”

“Only that I hoped the woman I met was unattached. Now, I see that you most clearly are. I would have put you from my mind, if I had known.”

“I am flattered, Prince of Troy.” Helen reached a hand to his. “You are most noble.”

Paris pulled his hand from hers. “I have spoiled your surprise. My apologies, Queen Helen.”

Helen twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “The mare.”

Paris swallowed hard. His cock twitched. “Yes, the mare.”

“She is a most lovely creature. The most handsome addition to the royal stables, I am certain.” Helen took another sip of wine. “Will you take me to her?”

Paris took the bowl she proffered. “You mean, now?”

The queen nodded. “That is what I mean.” She put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. He turned to face her. “Did you arrange for this gift? The horse from Troy?” Before Menelaus could utter a word, she kissed his cheek. He flushed more ruddy than he was by nature. “You are the most adoring husband a wife could ask the gods for.”

The king gripped her hand in his. “You are pleased, then?”

Helen batted her eyes under his heavy attention. “I am.”

Menelaus’ fingers dug into her thigh beneath the table. “You may thank me later.”

Helen looked down at the greasy mark his hand made on her gown. His crudeness disgusted her. But, she’d learned long ago how to move men without even a word. With adoring eyes she asked, “May I visit her now? At the stables? I caught barely a glimpse of her earlier. I should like to thoroughly inspect my gift now that I know she is mine to keep.”

“Go! Go my love. Take the guards with you.” Menelaus swiped his hand against the air. “Go! Enjoy the gift.”

“I should like the Trojan Prince to accompany us. He knows the horse better than anyone. I would hear all about this mare.”

Menelaus, the wine filling him with warmth and his wife’s kiss filling him with promise of a heated night in the dark, felt generous. “Yes, by all means. If the prince does not mind leaving such a festive hall behind?”

Paris twisted the golden cuff at his wrist. “I would be honored.”

As they walked to the stables, Helen pulled her himation closer about her shoulders. “The chill is unexpected on a night like tonight. Stars blazing against a clear black sky.”

Paris pulled his own cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around Helen. “I am used to the chill. I have spent many nights under such stars.” He was highly aware of the three guards shadowing them, so was careful not to look into her eyes. Once at the stable, she commanded the guards to wait outside. They obeyed their queen.

The tawny mare with a silver mane whinnied at the sight of Paris. “There now, girl.” He put his hand to the horse’s nose and stroked it softly and scratched her behind the ears.

Helen held out her hand to the horse and followed Paris’ lead. She let her fingers brush against his as she stroked the horse.

Paris pulled his hand to his side and stepped back. “What are you doing?”

Helen pressed closer to him, dropping her himation and his cloak to the ground. “This is what you want, is it not?” She placed a soft hand on his chest.

“I...I...no, we cannot,” he gently rebuffed her advance. “I have a wife.”

Helen laughed quietly. “And I, a husband. A wife matters not to me. She is not here, is she? How will she know, unless you speak the words to her?”

“But Menelaus...,” Paris leaned closer, warming to the overture. Aphrodite’s words rang in his head,
Take her, she is yours...

“He will never know. Not a single word from my lips, Paris, Prince of Troy.”

“I cannot deny that you are beautiful,” he said.

Helen gently touched his cheek and let her finger trace the line of his jaw. Then, she let her fingers caress the side of his neck as she pulled his head down to hers. “Are you thirsty, Paris, Prince of Troy?” His dark eyes bored into hers with a hunger so palpable her heart began to race.

The prince bent his head to kiss her full, waiting lips.

Take him
...
own him
...a woman’s voice spoke near Helen’s ear. A desire sparked instantly deep within her belly for Paris and turned to burning flame beneath his kisses. The fierceness of her need of him shocked her. He was a stranger, yet she knew, in this moment of passion, she couldn’t live without him. Didn’t want to live without him. “I want you inside me.”

Paris lifted her silken gown up over her hips and slipped his hand between her thighs, sliding his fingers into her sacred cross. His hand brought tiny moans to her lips. Helen spread her thighs so he could reach deeper inside her. “More. I beg you more.” The words barely escaped her lips, when he picked her up over his hips, pressing her back into a nearby wooden beam. Holding her with one arm, he released his cock with his free hand. Helen felt the heat of it pressed against her inner thigh. “Why do you pause,” she whispered into his neck. “Take me. I must have you, or I will die.”

Paris plunged his lust inside her. He rammed her with hard, hungry thrusts. Helen grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Each thrust reached deeper, until the heat inside her reached its peak. Paris covered her mouth with his to stifle her cries as she reached a shaking climax. He followed quickly after spilling his lust deep inside her. Gently, he set her on her feet. They stood panting and holding each other like long lost lovers. Helen broke the silence between them. “I feel as if I have just returned home.”

“In this, you are not alone.” Paris buried his face in her neck, covering her porcelain skin with kisses.

“Take me with you,” Helen whispered into his ear.

Paris abruptly ceased the onslaught of his lips, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You wish to go to Troy?”

Her heart pounded. “I would not be parted from you.”

“Nor I from you. Helen...” He kissed her. Any thought of Oenone fluttered away...
Oenone
...

The world around Helen faded as his warm mouth descended on hers. She could taste the wine and honey on his tongue. He smelled of the sea and stars. His kiss deepened. Helen’s knees weakened, and he pulled her closer, kissing her harder. His tongue assaulted her mouth and smashed against hers until her lips swelled beneath his. She tasted the tang of blood on her bottom lip. In that moment she lost all desire to be queen of Sparta. Since marrying Menelaus, she’d seduced many men in her quest for love, but none had awakened her passions until now. All her life she’d built walls around her heart. Now, with a kiss, all her defenses tumbled to dust at her feet. Her heart lay exposed for the first time in her life. Paris was pulling her love to the surface and it frightened her. This prince from Troy was unlocking the gates guarding her very soul, one by one, with each kiss, with each caress and she was helpless to stop him. What frightened her most was that deep down, in the secret recesses of her heart; she wanted him to possess her, every part of her. She wanted to become a part of his very soul, a part of him that he couldn’t live without. For the first time, she longed for a cage, a prison, a dungeon...any walls at all that would bind them together forever.

Paris broke the spell. “We should go. Your husband will be suspicious if we do not return soon.”

“Let the polis and Menelaus be swallowed up by Poseidon’s raging sea. I do not care. Let the sea swallow me as well, if I cannot be with you.”

Paris pulled her tightly against his chest. “What you ask is impossible. I do not deny that I desire it. But it cannot be done.”

A tear slid down Helen’s cheek. “I will die if I cannot be with you.”

Paris wiped the tear away with his thumb. His guilt slowly returned him to his senses. “Apollo’s glory will rise each day after I have sailed for home. In time, this feeling will fade into pleasant memory...for us both.”