Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) (40 page)

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Authors: Janell Rhiannon

BOOK: Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

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AGAMEMNON’S SUMMONS HAD
called all the captains to a giant pavilion erected just outside of the main encampment. Word spread quickly that Clytemnestra had arrived with an entourage including the royal princess of Mycenae. The great king and his wife stood near a wide altar that had been hastily adorned with garlands of field flowers and boughs of slender olive branches. Menelaus stood nearby as did Palamedes. The captains stood, ranked in order of importance, opposite the royal family members of Mycenae and Sparta. The gathering crowd of soldiers speculated among themselves about what Agamemnon’s purpose could be. When Iphigenia appeared, veiled and glowing in a golden gown it became clear Agamemnon intended to marry his eldest daughter to someone. The soldiers looked to each other wondering who had been chosen as groom, since Achilles had taken a bride from Skyros.

Iphigenia walked the short distance toward her father, her veil concealing her nervous smile. Her saffron gown fluttered softly as she walked and sparkled as it caught Apollo’s light. Agamemnon steeled himself against her beauty. His smile urged her forward. She returned his smile as if a blessing and dared a glance at the men nearby, none bore the appearance of Achilles. As the princess approached the sacred alter, Palamedes gripped Clytemnestra’s arm with the speed of a snake stunning its helpless prey, and two soldiers grabbed Iphigenia roughly by each arm. The princess looked to her father, confused. He made no move to help her.

“What are you doing?!” Clytemnestra shouted.

Iphigenia sank to her knees in fright. “Father?! Father?!” The men ignored her distress and dragged her screaming across the hard sand and rocks to the altar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother struggling to free herself from Palamedes’ hold.

The crowd shouted its confusion and concern. The great king ignored them all.

“My lord?!” the queen cried out, a terrible tremble in her voice. Agamemnon flashed a look of warning at her, chilling her blood. The great king’s face was all fire and stone. She recalled that look from the past with horror... when he’d taken her husband and first born son...fear gripped her heart. “Why?! Why?!” she screamed, her voice now frantic and pathetic.

Agamemnon pulled a gleaming silver dagger from his belt and held it high in the air. “ARTEMIS!”

Clytemnestra strained against Palamedes, twisted in desperation against his iron hold on her. “No! No! Please my lord, not again! Do not take her from me!”

“The goddess Artemis has spoken!” he shouted so all could hear. “She has spoken and must be obeyed,” he said, softer than before, the burden of the act weighing on him now.

The assembly stood in shock at the drama playing out in front of them. They openly questioned Agamemnon who answered them. “Artemis demands the sacrifice of my daughter to raise the winds for Troy.”

Clytemnestra howled in desperation. She freed one arm and managed to scratch Palamedes across the face, before he could subdue her in his grasp again. “Husband, my lord! I beg you!”

Only now could Iphigenia see that her father’s eyes were swollen and rimmed blood red. His smile faded to a thin line of determination. She searched his face for any sign of the love he’d born her, but found only a gray coldness. Iphigenia’s heart pounded. “Where is Achilles?” her voice cracked with fear. Agamemnon refused to meet her eyes. “Please, Father! What have I done to offend you?” She struggled vainly against the hard arms holding her captive.

Clytemnestra screamed, “You take our daughter’s life to retrieve that whore, Helen?!”

Odysseus sprang forward, reaching for the silver blade in Agamemnon’s hand. “You cannot do this!”

Agamemnon punched Odysseus with all his weight behind him, his heavy fist sent the young king sprawling back into the sand. “It is not for you to say!” He turned to the throng of horrified men. “Do you, any of you, dare oppose the will of Artemis?! You would spare one life to sacrifice thousands?! She has spoken through Kalchas and I will obey, even if it tears my heart in two. I am no match for the goddess. Let any man, I dare you! Let any man step forward and save my dear, sweet daughter from the wrath of the goddess.” Purple veins lined his forehead; his face blotched with fear and determination. He held the slicing blade aloft. “Save us all! Confront the goddess!”

The dissention in the crowd hushed to a great silence. A loan voiced cried out, “Is it true Kalchas?!”

The seer, who had been standing by in abject silence, stepped forward, holding his hands out in peace to the men. “Artemis withholds the winds to carry us to Troy,” he hesitated, then laid the final stone in their path, “and denies all princes and kings safe passage home if this sacrifice is not made.”

There it was, the awful truth revealed, forcing each man to assess his own life before that of a single girl. The stillness of the assembly spoke volumes to the queen. No one would step forward and save the girl now. No one would dare challenge Artemis for any reason.

“Hold her down,” Agamemnon commanded coldly. The guards obeyed. Agamemnon arched the dagger in the air, intending to drive it deep into Iphigenia’s chest, when on the downward strike the blade flew from his hand with a metallic ping. A second arrow passed his head piercing one of the guards through the eye. The guard screamed as he went down a lifeless heap of bone and blood. Agamemnon turned in time to see Achilles launching himself over the line of captains. The golden warrior took the great king into the hard ground with a heavy thud. Achilles cracked Agamemnon in the face with his iron fist sending a shower of blood from the king’s nose. He pummeled the great king again and again until there was no more fight between them. Covered in blood, he turned to free the princess...and caught Palamedes pulling his own blade across Iphigenia’s throat. The thin red line turned to gaping wound as her blood poured out, staining her golden gown crimson. Her eyes glazed over and her body fell slack in the slave’s arms. The sand beneath her feet drank her blood like a thirty desert.

Everything stood still. Mouths hung agape. Apollo’s light warmed the air...and then it happened. A gentle breeze from across the sea reached the shore.

Achilles spat on Agamemnon lying unconscious on the ground. “There you have your wind. You have your war. But you will never have my allegiance. Or my respect.” He stormed from the gathering, as all eyes rested on the horror before them. The queen’s agonized wailing filled the air, drowning out even the sound of the sea. Slowly, one by one they left for their ships.

With Iphigenia’s blood freshly spilt, the assembled Greeks readied the rigging of their galleys and unfurled their sails. Men mumbled that the bloody sacrifice had given them the promised winds, despite the awfulness of it. It confirmed in their minds that it wasn’t their place to question the gods. And after such an iron display of determination bordering on madness by Agamemnon, not a single man, king or prince, wanted to stand against him save Achilles.

WITH TENDER CARE
, Clytemnestra wrapped Iphigenia in a dark shroud and sailed for home. The fair winds that sped the navy across the Aegean and on to Troy carried the queen quickly home to Mycenae. She’d refused to release the body of her beloved daughter the entire journey. And for every tear she shed, she vowed revenge. Any thread of loyalty she’d managed to cultivate for Agamemnon was now inextricably severed...forever.
I will wield the blade that takes his life myself, if he ever dares set foot in Mycenae again...

SO MANY PEOPLE
helped me in so many ways, big and small, to complete this book and stay focused. I love writing. I love telling stories. And without the contributions of each of these people my project wouldn’t have seen daylight. My Myrmidons, like the men who loyally served in Achilles’ army, helped me in unique ways to take each step. They let me infiltrate their lives via odd hour texts, texts the size of dissertations, random and rambling texts, never once questioning my sanity...I think :) They have accepted my quirky ways and I love you all for that more than you know.

Roll call: It began with this idea of character sketches that morphed into photo shoots. All because of a conversation with Nathan over a hamburger, two photo shoots were born. Tim and Sophie H. you rocked. Tim you worked that camera like a beast, whether in the pool or ocean, in dry grass with stickers or in the sand. Karen and Sophie K., and your make-up entourage, you were amazing. What an absolute pleasure to work with you all. Bonus: Baby Paris! Carissa thank you for Hecuba’s crown. Nathan, once again, you came through for me behind and in front of the camera. Gratitude. I’m awkward when I meet new people, so it’s always an anxious time for me. So when it came time to meet the cover model for Hektor, I was a mess. Tommy David you were gracious. I had no idea how much fun one person could be. I’m so glad we found each other in that little airport terminal. I almost lost you before I even met you. Okay, I admit I was a little star struck. Mike you were an absolute pleasure. Funny and talented. And your book video was completely generous. I love it. Daniel, my brother! You showed us L.A. in style. What can I say except I love you? Regina. I love what you did for this entire series. Nadège. We finally got to work together. I am blessed. So, very blessed because of all of you.

On the scholarly level, I want to thank Professor Jess Whalen for helping me nail down the names of Bronze Age drinking vessels, and connecting me with Professor Peter Pavúk who gave me the exact names of drinking vessels used in ancient Troy (which wasn’t Greek). Also, I wish to thank Professor Martine Cuypers for her extensive research on Achilles in Methymna. My quest to dig into as many myths, fragments and otherwise, related to the Trojan heroes unearthed this gem.

Randy. Randy. Randy. You read the raw manuscript and gave me feedback worth its weight in gold. Thank you for your authorial friendship. May the Muse be forever in your ear.

Sissy. The iron words you text and speak. Period. You are my shield-maiden. Muah.