Warrior Rising (31 page)

Patroklos bowed his head. “I beg your pardon, Great Goddess. I meant no disrespect.”

Venus drew a deep breath and the breeze died, returning to pleasant coolness of the seaside night. “Of course you didn't, darling. I shouldn't be so touchy. I've just been under terrible stress lately. This war is wearing on my nerves, which brings me back to the reason for my little visit and your question. I wish to aid you because the war has gone on long enough. We want it to end. You can help that happen.”

“We? So the gods are truly becoming involved?”

“Actually the goddesses are.”

Patroklos's eyes widened in understanding. “Athena is aiding Odysseus.”

“Among other things,” Venus mumbled, then cleared her throat delicately. “Yes, and I am aiding you.”

“I'm honored, Great Goddess. But why me? I have never been your supplicant.” He smiled a little shyly. “The truth is until lately I knew very little of love.”

Venus touched his cheek and he felt a warm flush of love and happiness rush though his body. “But you have found love, haven't you?”

Unable to speak, he nodded.

“That is why I've chosen you. Newfound love is a powerful emotion. It holds a very special magic. I've seen it stave off death, heal souls and thwart fate. I'm going to use the magic of newfound love and your physical resemblance with your cousin. Coupled and blessed by me, those things will allow you to impersonate Achilles just long enough to lead the Myrmidons and the Greek army against the Trojans. You'll head the charge when the great walls are breached.”

Excitement shivered over Patroklos and his eyes blazed. “I'll do it, Goddess! I'll do it for Greece and for you.”

Venus inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement of his pledge. “I am pleased. Now all you need is Achilles' famous armor and my blessing just after dawn.”

“My cousin keeps his armor in his tent. How do I—”

“Leave that to me. Love will keep Achilles occupied,” Venus said.

“But the Myrmidons, how do I rally them without alerting Achilles?”

“Simply pass the word amongst the tents tonight that Achilles has called a special training session for the morning. They are to meet here.” Venus gestured around them at where they stood on the beach, halfway between the Greek and Myrmidon camps. “Shortly after dawn. Imply that he has become restless. The men are already surprised at his choice to withdraw from the fighting. It will take little to convince them he has returned to his old ways.”

Patroklos nodded slowly, considering. “True, and if Love is keeping Achilles busy in his tent, he won't hear of the early
training
session he was supposed to have called.” He grinned. “My cousin will be truly angered when he finds out he's been duped.”

Venus's smile was blinding in its beauty. “And by that time the war will be over and the Greeks victorious. Achilles will be too busy rejoicing and making plans to return to Phthia to be too angry with you.”

“You, my lady, are brilliant,” Patroklos said with a gentlemanly flourish and bow.

The goddess batted her long-lashed eyes coquettishly. “Of course I am, darling.”

“And the Greeks—will they be told Achilles is going to lead the charge?”

Venus raised a slim brow. “I do believe Odysseus can aid us with spreading word of that.”

“Then it is decided.”

“It is. At dawn I will await you behind your tent.” Venus paused, as another thought came to her. “You'll need to get Jacqueline out of the way. She's a modern woman, and she'd never sit idly by while you led the Greeks into battle.”

Patroklos nodded and chuckled softly. “Jacqueline would not sit idly by ever. She has the body of a sweet maiden and the heart of a brave warrior. She is a most unusual woman.”

“Well, she is, but you don't know many modern mortals. Still it causes a problem for us in the morning. She is truly besotted with you and she won't . . .” Venus's words trailed off as she began to smile.

“Goddess?”

“She is so besotted with you that she wishes very much to please you. Before dawn awaken her.” The goddess smiled suggestively. “Awake her
thoroughly,
and then tell her that second only to her you desire the young, tender clams that the sea exposes at low tide.”

“Low tide?” he said, obviously not understanding.

Venus sighed. “Low tide will be at dawn. Ask her to dig clams for you while you train with the men. She'll leave your tent at dawn and be out of the way.”

“Are you sure she'll do that for me?”

“Fulfill her first. Pledge your love to her. Then she'll dig clams for you. Modern mortals are logical. You did something nice for her—she'll want to do something nice for you.”

Patroklos smiled. “It's really that simple?”

“Well, it will be after a sprinkle or two of my magic. Now go to her brave Patroklos, and on the morrow be prepared for glory!” Venus clapped her hands together and disappeared in a poof of glittering smoke.

Patroklos, grinning broadly, kicked into a swift jog, determined to take Jacqueline into his tent and spend the remainder of the night worshipping love.

It wasn't difficult to find Athena and Odysseus. It didn't take the divine magic of being love incarnate to recognize the moans and murmured sighs of the passion they were sharing. Out of consideration, Venus materialized around the curve of the beach inside a grove of slender trees. Quietly she approached the lovers. Athena was lying back on a satin blanket, wearing only a transparent silver robe. Odysseus, completely naked, and, Venus noted with appreciation, much more powerfully endowed than she had imagined, was kissing the arch of the goddess's foot. Venus hoped Athena had bothered to have the forest nymphs give her a thorough pedicure, and made a mental note to speak with her later about such things.

Venus cleared her throat.

Odysseus grabbed his sword and in one quick motion whirled around, crouching defensively in front of Athena.

Venus raised a brow. “How deliciously protective you are, darling.”

Athena was on her feet in an instant, stepping between Odysseus and Venus. “How dare you interrupt me! You have no right to—”

“Oh, blah.” Venus rolled her eyes. “Save your bluster for the mortals. And I'm not interrupting for long. I just have a quick message for Odysseus.”

Athena's eyes narrowed. “What do you want with him?”

Venus's smile was slow and knowing. “Jealousy? How very amusing. Ridiculous, but amusing. But, no, I have no intention of ravishing your lover. Odysseus, darling?” Venus looked around Athena, who continued to glare at her. Odysseus stepped to his goddess's side, giving Venus a delightful look at his full frontal glory. “Good, there you are. And may I say you are looking quite well.”

“The message!” Athena snapped.

Venus sighed. “Oh all right. It's just this—Achilles will be leading the Myrmidons into the battle tomorrow morning shortly after dawn.”

Odysseus's fists clenched and his smile was fierce. “I knew he would relent!” Then he turned to Athena and dropped to one knee. “Tomorrow my goddess, my love, the Greeks will give you victory over the Trojans.”

“Yes, isn't that interesting?” Athena answered, but her eyes never left Venus. “And why would that be happening?”

“Well, if you hadn't been so
preoccupied
lately you'd know why.” Venus made a motion for Athena to follow her a few paces away. “If I could have a word with you in private?”

Still frowning sternly at the Goddess of Love, Athena told Odysseus, “I'll be just a moment.” And she followed Venus down the beach. “Explain yourself,” she said when they were beyond his hearing.

“First of all, I must say I told you so. You should have taken him as a lover ages ago.”

“My love life is not open for discussion.”

“Darling, I'm not discussing your love life, just your previous lack of one. Anyway this whole thing is rather simple. You've been aiding Odysseus, which has basically nullified Achilles' absence from the battlefield.”

Athena drew a deep breath, obviously readying herself to launch into an excuse. Venus's upraised hand silenced her. “Oh, save it. I say good for you.” She glanced over Athena's shoulder where Odysseus waited for his goddess. “Actually I say
very
good for you. But you did mess up our little plan.”

“I realize that,” Athena said shortly.

“So, Hera and I have altered it. The Greeks might as well win. I mean, it's not like we actually care. We just want the war to end.”

“I care,” Athena said.

“I can see that—so this works out doubly well for you. The Greeks win. Your lover is a Greek. All will be happily ever after. Hey, maybe you can manipulate it so that it takes Odysseus another decade to get home. That way you can have him all to yourself for a lovely long affair.”

Athena's gray eyes narrowed again. “We are
not
discussing my love life.”

“By Poseidon's wet buttocks, you're boring!” Then remembering where she was, Venus glanced nervously out to sea. “Sorry darling, you know I said it with love.”

“Would you please stay focused? What about Achilles and his fate? Does this mean he dies tomorrow?” Athena said.

“Oh, don't worry about that. Achilles will be sleeping safely in his bed. It'll be Patroklos, plus a little of my magic, who is actually leading the Greeks. But do not share that information with your boyfriend.”

“He is not—” Athena blustered.

“Oh, whatever. Just don't tell him. I'll see you tomorrow after this whole thing is finally over. Unless you're otherwise occupied.” Venus blew a kiss at Odysseus, and then she disappeared.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Agamemnon's voluminous tents were filled with celebration. Of course most of the revelers were Agamemnon's contemporaries— men either too old or too highly placed to be involved in the actual fighting—but one would never know from their toasts and their boasts that they hadn't been in the thick of the battle. And there were women aplenty. Young, supple war prizes who, if not exactly eager to please, were willing to pretend they were for the advantage such a night might gain them.

Briseis hated them—every old, shrunken-testicled, rutting goat. Though even as she hated them she shot surreptitious smiles to those she found the least repulsive. Agamemnon could tire of her at any time, and if he did, only one of these soon-to-be corpses would be all that stood between her and whatever peasant warrior managed to fight off his comrades for her.

What she wouldn't give to belong to someone as virile as golden Achilles. His scars had never bothered her, and the thought of the berserker had always excited more than frightened her. But when she had belonged to him, he had never so much as glanced at her unless he'd wanted her to fetch wine or food for him. Since he'd allowed Agamemnon to take her, Briseis had cursed herself for not being bolder when she'd had a chance at him. She should have gone to his bed uninvited. She should have thought of bespelling him as Polyxena had.

“Briseis! More wine!” Agamemnon ordered, reaching down from where he sat on his golden throne to cup her breast and tweak her nipple for the benefit of the watching generals.

Briseis wanted to curl her lip and hiss at him like a viper. Instead she arched her back erotically and said huskily, “Anything you wish, my lord.” Then she picked up the large empty wine jug and took her time walking past the other men, stroking the smooth side of the pottery suggestively and allowing them ample opportunity to gaze at her aroused young nipples and fantasize about anything they might wish.

As soon as she left the tent, Briseis's sensuous walk disappeared and she moved with the catlike silence she'd perfected when she was just a child. Naturally the bovine warriors who huddled around the wine casks didn't hear her approach. When she heard his name, she froze in the shadows.

“Achilles! Truly? Are you certain?” One short coarse-looking man said.

“I heard from Odysseus himself. It must be truth,” came the reply from a taller, pockmarked soldier.

“With Achilles and his Myrmidons leading the charge, victory will be ours tomorrow, brothers!”

“I didn't believe he would fight again. I heard that the Trojan princess had cast a spell over him,” said another man.

“She only cast a spell here,” the short man said, grabbing his genitals and thrusting his hips up, “and not here.” With his other hand he lifted his sword and swung it in a singing arch around his head. All the men laughed.

Briseis stepped out of the shadows. “Agamemnon wishes more wine. Fill this for me,” she said coldly and held out the jug.

The short man took it and said, “I'll fill it for you.” His lingering gaze said that he would love to fill her as he did the jug, but Briseis knew that as long as she was Agamemnon's war prize none of the men would speak openly of their lust. Agamemnon could do anything he wished to her, his men could not.

He handed her back the jug, eyes staring at her erect nipples plainly visible through her transparent robes. “What is your name?” she asked him.

He smiled, showing rotting teeth. “Aentoclus, my lady.”

“Aentoclus, if you ever so much as look my way again, I will tell Agamemnon that you tried to rape me, and I will ask my lover, your king, to bring me your testicles in retribution.” While the warrior blanched a sickly pale color, Briseis smiled and walked away, holding the jug carefully so that it didn't splash wine on her clothing.