Rise of Princes (Homeric Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Rise of Princes

  Homeric Chronicles

  Book Two

  by: Janell Rhiannon

  Rise of Princes

  Copyright 2017 © Janell Rhiannon

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any format without the express permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction based on mythology. All characters are fictional. Any semblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design and Photography ©Regina Wamba with MaeIDesign and Photography

  Edited by Melissa @There for You Editing

  Other books by Janell Rhiannon

  MG Fiction

  Winter Fairy Queen TBR

  YA Fiction

  Invisible Wings

  Uncross the Stars

  Adult Fantasy

  Livingstone Saga:

  Birth: of the Gargoyle of Compostela

  Homeric Chronicles:

  Song of Princes

  Rise of Princes

  Rage of Princes TBR

  Return of Kings TBR

  Homeric Chronicles Novella

  Hesione TBR

  for Carolina

  From the Mouth of Gods

  Athena

  I am the goddess of wisdom and warfare. It requires wisdom to know when war is just. This war between men should never have happened. Aphrodite is to blame. That the rest of us have played our favorites and taken sides is to be expected. How can we not? I have chosen to champion the rash, young King of Ithaka, Odysseus. His pride must be tamed, and that will be no easy task. I will protect him as much as a goddess can, but in this great game we play there are no rules. So, who can say what will happen?

  Thetis

  I am a water nymph, a changeling, sometimes called the silver-footed. Once my beauty caught the eye of Zeus, but the omen regarding my son gave Zeus reason enough to spurn me. He decreed that no immortal should take me to wife, so I was given to the mortal King Peleus as a bride. Our happiness was brief because it is unnatural to be bound to a mortal. They do not understand our ways and it is useless to explain. But my son, Achilles, came from our union and for that, I will always be thankful to the mortal king. I would be a liar if I said my desire for Zeus diminished. If I must use this forbidden passion, I will not hesitate. There is nothing I would not do for my son.

  Aphrodite

  I am the goddess of love, desire, and beauty. To possess such gifts is true power. What greater force exists than these to motivate both the mortals and the immortals alike? How can Athena blame me for a war begun by passion when even the mighty Zeus falls for beauty, despite the trouble it causes? And if we speak honestly, for there is no reason not to, Zeus’ appetite for sex is insatiable. His children are scattered across all the mortal kingdoms. Since the apple incident, I have been at odds with Athena and Hera. Those conniving bitches plot against Troy to spite me, because they are jealous Paris did not choose their offerings. Truly, they do not understand mortal men.

  TIMELINE FOR THE HEROES & HEROINES OF

  THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY

  Book One

  Song of Princes

  1295 BCE Hektor is born in Troy

  Agamemnon is born in Mycenae

  1290 BCE Paris is born in Troy

  1288 BCE Clytemnestra born in Sparta

  1285 BCE Andromache born

  Briseis is born in Pedasus

  1282 BCE Menelaus is born in Mycenae

  1279 BCE Odysseus is born in Ithaka

  1272 BCE Wedding of Thetis and Peleus

  Paris fights Ares’ Bull

  The Judgment of Paris (15 years old)

  1271 BCE Achilles born to Thetis and Peleus

  1270 BCE Penelope born

  Cassandra’s Curse

  Leda raped by Zeus in the form of a swan

  Clytemnestra (18) marries Agamemnon (25)

  Helen born

  1266 BCE Iphigenia born to Clytemnestra & Agamemnon

  Achilles (5) with Chiron the Centaur

  1265 BCE Hektor (30) marries Andromache (20)

  1257 BCE Achilles (14 yrs) returns to Peleus

  Studies under Phoenix

  Corythus born, son of Oenone and Paris

  Achilles (14) sent to Skyros by Thetis

  1254 BCE Achilles (17) marries pregnant Deidamia (16)

  Helen kidnapped by Theseus and Pirithous

  1253 BCE Neoptolemus (Achilles’ son) born

  1252 BCE Helen (18) marries Menelaus (30)

  Odysseus (27) marries Penelope (18)

  1251 BCE Hermione born to Helen and Menelaus

  Paris quests to rescue Hesione at

  Priam’s command

  Menelaus attends funeral of

  Catreus of Crete

  Paris (39) takes Helen (19), takes half

  Menelaus’ treasury

  Oenone is heartbroken, turns to her father for advice/comfort

  Telemachus born to Odysseus and Penelope

  Gathering at Aulis for Troy

  Odysseus to retrieve Achilles (20) at Skyros

  Sacrifice of Iphigenia (15)

  Book Two

  Rise of Princes

  1251 BCE Iphigenia’s funeral

  Agamemnon’s fleet at Lemnos

  Paris farewells Oenone

  1250 BCE Achilles attacks Methymna

  1249 BCE Agamemnon’s fleet arrives at Tenedos

  1248 BCE Queen Leda travels to Mycenae

  Agamemnon’s fleet arrives at Troy

  Ambush of Caster and Pollux

  The united armies of the west threaten mutiny

  Clytemnestra meets Aegisthus

  1247 BCE Odysseus’ revenge

  Nauplius seeks restitution

  1246 BCE Neoptolemus sent to Chiron

  Penelope waits with Anticlea

  Paris reveals the truth to Helen

  1245 BCE Penelope consults the Oracle

  Orestes (18) promised to Hermione (6)

  Aphrodite consults Zeus

  Achilles takes Lyrnessus

  Princess Briseis captured

  Lykaon sold into slavery

  1244 BCE Priam marries Melita

  1243 BCE Achilles and Odysseus at Bay of Edremit

  Menelaus takes Megapenthes as heir

  1242 BCE Refugee Camp established in Troy

  1240 BCE Aphrodite blesses Helen

  1239 BCE Corythus (17) to Troy

  Achilles sacks Hypoplakia Thebe

  Achilles ambushed Troilus and Polyxena

  Chryseis given to Agamemnon

  Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love.

  —Tagore

  PART ONE

  Before the Storm

  Serenity flew on the wind

  before the storm of blood

  one thousand ships strong

  plowed across the sea

  white foam churning

  bronze shields blinking in the sun

  Proud kingdoms stood ready

  before the storm of blood

  shields and spears gleaming

  voices raised to Ares

  Their walls and shields failed

  before the storm of blood

  the Golden Warrior laying waste

  to thousands in his wake

  their blood quenching parched earth

  Before the storm of blood

  peace reigned

  Before the storm of blood

  hope lived

  Before the storm of blood …

  Prologue

  Paris, the Forgotten Prince, has been reunited with hi
s royal family. He leaves behind his life as a shepherd and takes his place as the second son of King Priam and Queen Hecuba. But the tranquility of reunion is soon marred by Paris’ love for Helen. Their passion comes at a heavy price, for on her heels follows a fleet of swift oared ships bound for Troy.

  Hektor, the Golden Prince, marries the lovely Andromache and settles into palatial life. When the united western armies begin sacking Trojan allies along the coast, the defense of the citadel are placed in Hektor’s hands.

  Achilles, the Golden Warrior, has chosen a short life, his legacy one of glory found on the battlefield. He leaves behind a wife and son, seeking his future in the war with Troy. When Agamemnon uses his name to trick Iphigenia to become a sacrifice for the war, it causes a rift between them. One that, if not repaired, bodes ill for the united western tribes.

  Odysseus, the Warrior King, plots against his enemy even as he seeks a swift victory to return to his beloved Penelope. He vows revenge against Palamedes, the man he blames for forcing him to go to Troy.

  Agamemnon, the Great King, fumes as his united host sings the praises of Achilles, paying the rebellious commander of the Myrmidons more respect than he is given. He vows to unseat Achilles and claim the glory for himself.

  Menelaus, publicly cuckolded by Helen, vows to get his wife back so he can kill her with his own bare hands.

  Clytemnestra, bereft of her beautiful daughter, Iphigenia, takes her daughter’s body home to Mycenae for proper burial. Vengeance burns in her heart.

  ONE

  MYCENAE

  1251 BCE

  The flickering light of twin oil lamps could not lift the descending darkness of the mourning hall. Clytemnestra did not care for the light, as she stared with unseeing eyes at the lifeless form of Iphigenia. The blood had long been washed from her daughter’s body, yet the queen could only see red. Red was the color of her hate. Red was the color of her revenge. Black was the color of her heart. This new grief ripped open the old wound. She remembered with tender pains the son Agamemnon had cruelly taken from her, whose death had been only slightly softened by Iphigenia’s birth. Now, both children were gone, and their precious lives had been taken by her husband’s hand. She reached pale, trembling fingers out to touch the gold coins on her daughter’s eyes. “I promise.”

  “Promise what, Mother?”

  The queen turned her entire body around, her black gown gathering around her feet like a dark pool of water. “Elektra. I thought I was alone.”

  The princess shifted her weight to one side, waiting in awkward silence for her mother to invite her into the hall, but Clytemnestra remained as still as if carved from stone. “May I enter?” Elektra finally asked.

  Clytemnestra turned back to face her dead child. “It is a grim business. Mourning your sister.”

  Elektra approached cautiously until she was just a step behind her mother. Since returning with her sister’s corpse, her mother moved as a pale ghost walking among the living. “Her gown is beautiful, Mother.”

  “It is.” The silence continued widening the chasm between them.

  “What were you promising?” Elektra asked, finding the courage to speak again.

  The queen straightened her back. “Revenge.”

  Elektra’s eyes watered. “Against who?”

  “It is not for you to worry about.” Sighing, she reached a hand to her second daughter’s chin, turning her face so their eyes could meet. The queen looked hard into Elektra’s eyes. The young girl’s cheeks were wet with fresh tears. “She was my blood. Do you understand that? My. Blood. She was taken from me in the cruelest way.” She dropped her hand. “It will not go unpunished.”

  “He is my … father,” the young princess choked. “Please, Mother—”

  “He is a murderer.” The queen’s icy voice cracked with restrained rage.

  Confused and hurt by her mother’s determination, Elektra ran crying from the room. She ran all the way to the kitchen where she knew Neola would be. Standing in the doorway panting, her cheeks stained with incomprehensible sorrow, she waited for Neola to finish pulling the hot rounds of bread from the ovens before throwing herself into her nursemaid’s arms.

  “Child, what is the matter?” Neola asked worriedly.

  The little princess squeezed into her nursemaid’s embrace. “She is going to take revenge on my father.” Elektra buried her face in Neola’s neck, her slender shoulders shaking.

  “Shah, child. Shah. It is only a mother’s grief to speak this way.”

  “How could he do it? How could my father do it?”

  Stroking the girl’s hair, Neola pressed her old cheek to the princess’ head. “I don’t know why the gods punish us with such tasks.”

  “The gods are evil, then, to ask my father to do that.”

  The nursemaid met Elektra’s eyes. “My princess, it is best you never utter such things aloud for the gods to hear. Do you understand?” She tilted her head down so her lips brushed against the young girl’s ear and whispered, “They are hard. Cruel. They will punish you for loyalty, as well as betrayal. Keep your thought of them to yourself. Go unnoticed by them. Life is easier when they do not see you.”

  Elektra dried her eyes and nose on Neola’s tunic. “I loved my sister,” she sniffled. “I loved her.”

  “I know you did, little one. I know.”

  “Father would play in the orchard with us. Help us pick figs for sweets. He loved us, did he not?” Elektra’s chin quivered and her eyes glistened with more tears. The sadness and confusion dug deeper into her heart, like the roots of a tree in search of water. “He has taken my sister from me,” she sobbed again into her nurse’s neck. “My chest hurts, Neola. Make it stop. I cannot stand the hurt.”

  Holding her close, Neola stroked Elektra’s dark hair. “I cannot, little one, I cannot.” Tears threatened to spill from her own eyes recalling the joy of Clytemnestra’s smile when she’d held the newborn Iphigenia in her arms. She knew the miracle of that day had sustained the queen all these years, and now that was gone. She doubted her lady would ever recover from this, even if the gods willed it so. While comforting the young princess, Elektra, Neola finally allowed the burden of her sorrow release, her tears falling in silent rivers down her wrinkled cheeks. Iphigenia. My sweet Iphigenia.

  The queen stood before Athena’s statue in the temple, her face heavily veiled from the world. Her children, heirs to Agamemnon’s throne, stood with her. The priest mumbled through the appropriate words and the funeral procession began. Attendants carried Iphigenia’s body on a gold filigree pallet, her blue gown fluttering in the breeze. Clytemnestra walked with her head held high, her children trailing her like cygnets following their mother swan. Every step pained her soul. Every step broke her heart over and over again.

  How will I breathe? Death pressed itself against her cheek with cold lips. I am broken into a thousand pieces. Athena, I wish to die. She walked on, following the procession to the pyre where her precious daughter’s ashes would kiss the sky. I do not want this journey. Thankfully, they stopped. Blinking, the queen focused on the outside world.

  The tallest of the king’s guards spoke, his words burning through the haze of the queen’s grief. “My lady, when you are ready. Give the word and it will be done.”

  “I will never be ready,” she whispered. A small hand reached for hers, and her fingers curled around it without thinking. She glanced down to find Elektra’s sad eyes gazing up at her. They are his eyes, she thought. After giving the little hand a squeeze, she then found the guard’s face and nodded.

  As they laid her beloved daughter’s body on the pinnacle of the fire bed, she thought her heart would cease beating. She watched while the torch was laid to the wood. Slowly, sections of the bed smoked, then caught flame. My beautiful girl. The fire licked the edges of Iphigenia’s gown. Clytemnestra panicked that her daughter would wake and feel the pain of burning, but quickly caught herself. She is dead. She can feel nothing. A breeze whirled around the pyre, enc
ouraging the flames to consume the body. Clytemnestra watched in dazed horror as the visage of her daughter disappeared in the dancing orange and red flames. Her knees buckled beneath her and she crumpled to the ground.

  The king’s guards rushed to assist their queen. She tilted her head back, releasing the agonized wail of a childless mother. The funeral assembly stared at their queen, on her knees, weeping and howling. The rumors whispered on the wind about King Agamemnon sacrificing the Princess Iphigenia had been too awful to believe, but upon the queen’s return from Aulis, all speculation had been proven fact. The people wondered about the fate of the royal family. Would the queen lead them? Would she abandon them for her home in Sparta? They had grown to love her over the years. Her kindness was well-known. Her pity of the poor had gained the city’s heart. She’d become beloved by them all.

  Neola watched in horror as her lady’s private sorrow became a public spectacle. The guards surrounded their queen and lifted her to her feet. She leaned heavily against the closest one, as her legs could barely hold her upright. With the guards’ assistance, Clytemnestra was led away from the smoldering funeral pyre back to the palace. Neola knew the only person who could possibly lift Clytemnestra out of the darkness of grief was the queen’s own mother, Queen Leda. Their relationship had always been contentious at best, but clearly Clytemnestra needed the strong guidance of a woman who could understand her, someone who was herself both a mother and a queen. She decided then and there she’d send for Leda immediately. Without her lady’s permission.