Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) (37 page)

“I am Odysseus, King of Ithaka.” He reached into the cart pulling the purple trimmed himation from the pile and draped it across his shoulders.

Achilles lowered his sword. “I have a cloudy memory of you from my father’s court years ago. What business brings you to Skyros, my lord?”

“You do.”

The golden warrior laughed pulling the veil from his face. He tugged at the woman’s chiton with his free hand and it slipped from his bare shoulders into a pile at his feet. Never once letting his guard down, or the shining blade in his hand. “You are far from your home, Odysseus. What business do you have with me? Has my father sent you?”

Odysseus flashed Achilles an engaging smile. “No, your father has not sent me. It is King Agamemnon who summons you.” Odysseus eyed the young woman hiding behind Achilles, taking the warrior’s hand familiarly in her own. She may have kept her eyes diverted toward the ground, but her regal presence was not lost on the beggar-king. “Perhaps we should talk privately.”

Achilles whispered something to the woman who then walked away, giving one backwards glance at Odysseus, who noted her worried expression. The other women silently followed suit, leaving the two men alone.

Odysseus leaned against the cart. “It seems that you have been living quite comfortably among the woman.” He gestured to the discarded robe on the ground.

Achilles flashed a brilliant smile and shrugged his shoulders divulging nothing, denying nothing. “How did you find me?”

Odysseus’ broad smile divulged nothing.

Achilles put the sword back in the cart. “What is the king of Ithaka doing so far from his kingdom? And what are you doing in the company of Agamemnon?”

“What is the future king of Phthia and commander of the Myrmidons doing living here dressed as a woman?”

“Surely, you haven’t traveled hundreds of miles to spar words. What do you want with me?”

“That you accompany me to Aulis,” Odysseus answered.

“What does Aulis have to do with Agamemnon or you?”

“It is where all the generals are gathered.”

The soft hairs on Achilles’ neck stood on end. “Speak plainly, Odysseus. No more banter.”

Odysseus nodded. “Do you remember Helen, wife of Menelaus?”

“I have heard the rumors of her bewitching beauty. Of the oath her suitors took.”

“She has been kidnapped and we go to free her.”

“Go where? Who took her?”

“Paris, son of King Priam. We sail for Troy.”

There it was the city of his glory and his doom, beckoning him with destiny’s imposing finger.
This is the moment my mother tried to keep from me. My glory. The immortality of my name…
Achilles stood for a moment. For the first time, the weight of his decision pulled him to the earth. He looked at the stone path beneath his feet. It was safe here.
I could just stay with Deidamia. Become a father, farm, live a long life.
“Troy,” Achilles said, looking up to meet Odysseus’ gaze. His eyes sparkled with lust for battle. “When do we leave?”
I chose glory...

“Before the sun sets. My ship is a short hike from here.” Odysseus shoved the linens that lay strewn across the ground back into the cart. “She will wait for you, Achilles. It is what women do.” He clapped Achilles on the shoulder.

“She is my wife.”

“I see. All the more difficult to leave then,” Odysseus acknowledged.

“Do not judge me harshly, but I long to go. Confinement here has taken all but my life.”

Odysseus nodded understanding at that as well.

Achilles embraced the messenger. “I must take my leave of her father. Then make my way to Phthia and my father. If we are to win this war, I will need the Myrmidons behind me. Their allegiance is only secured by my father’s word. By my honor I will follow you to Aulis. My fate is tied to Troy.”

“Then go quickly. Agamemnon is no patient man. But I will follow you to Phthia, then we will make for Aulis.”

THALPIUS STOOD AT
the cliff’s edge, his eyes squinting out across the horizon. He could see nothing but the blinding sun bouncing back at him. Three days had passed since Odysseus’ messenger had returned promising that Achilles would soon follow. The messenger had said that Achilles intended to return to his father’s land to request the admiralty of the Myrmidons and would meet with the assembled army waiting at Aulis to head for Troy and war.  The sun gave Thalpius a throbbing ache behind his brow. 

“How long will we wait, sire?” Thalpius asked his king.

“As long as it takes. We cannot win without Achilles. If I have to retrieve him myself I will. By the balls of Zeus, I will bring him back in chains…” Menelaus’ voice trailed off. Until he’d uttered it aloud, he hadn’t feared facing Achilles. But now, the lack of wind, the suffocating heat, and the lapse of days made him uneasy.
What if I have to force Achilles here? Could I do it?

“What if the wind doesn’t pick up? Isn’t that a bad sign? Perhaps the gods inform us of something…something we’re doing wrong.”

“He will come. The winds will come. I will have my wife back.”  Menelaus wasn’t as confidant as he sounded. “Keep your lookout.”

YEARS HAD FLOWN
by since Peleus had seen his golden son. Achilles was on the verge of manhood when Thetis whisked him off to seclusion at Skyros. When Achilles strode into the hall seeking audience with his father, his stature stunned the king. Gone was the lanky golden boy with a wide smile. He had been replaced by a god among men. Achilles stood a head taller than almost any man present. His azure eyes blazed fire beneath a handsome brow. His hair, catching the light, shimmered with gold and tumbled about his wide shoulders in long twisted locks and tight braids. His stride was long, his gait easy and confident.

“Surely, the gods have had a hand on you since the womb,” the king said, as he greeted his son.

“Father.”

Peleus embraced him, the sinewy muscles and strength beneath the linen chiton evident. “You have become a man while you have been away.”

Achilles released his father and turned his gaze to his beloved mother. They both knew why he’d come home. The future now entwined with the present. He had made his choice. Thetis already knew in her heart her son’s response. She could hear the call of the sea behind him, the clash of swords above him, and worst, she could see the look of anticipation in his eyes.
Yes, he has chosen
. Her heart cried out for him to stay, knowing it was too late. She smiled at her son although joy failed to reach her eyes.

Achilles leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Mother.” His eyes spoke the words:
You know why I have come
.

The stench of dust and blood and the sweat of warriors swirled around him. “Forgive me, I must ask.”

“No.” It was a simple answer. His voice held no tremor of hesitation. His eyes gave away no hint of fear. “It is no small matter the course I have chosen. Do not be saddened by it.”

The king interrupted the tender moment, declaring, “I have waited far too many years for this day. Tonight, we feast and drink to my son’s return!”

“We accept your invitation,” Achilles’ grin stretched wide across his face, a secret glinting in the corner of his eye.

Peleus and Thetis looked to each other. The king asked, “We?”

“My wife and I,” Achilles said.

“Wife? You have married Iphigenia? I was not informed you traveled to Mycenae to claim her.” Peleus looked to Thetis, but could see by her surprised expression that she knew nothing of the marriage either.

Achilles laughter roared across the marble hall. “Not Iphigenia, Father. Deidamia of Skyros.”

Thetis gripped the arm rest of Peleus’ throne as her legs gave way beneath her.

“Mother!” Achilles flew to her side, catching her before she tumbled down the steps of the dais.

Thetis pushed her son’s hands from her. “Truly, I am fine. You have given us a shock, no doubt.” She smoothed her gown. “Why keep such news from us? This I do not understand.”

“The story is long. It does not matter how it came to be. We are happy. That is all you need to know.” Achilles’ face revealed nothing to his parents of the scandal Deidamia’s father had quieted. It served no purpose revealing his recklessness and breach of hospitality at this point.

“But what of Iphigenia? I swore an oath years ago with Agamemnon—”

“It was not meant to be. Agamemnon will no doubt find a more suitable prospect for his daughter.” The golden warrior turned toward the over-sized cedar doors. “Escort my wife into the hall.” Deidamia entered, her purple silk gown flowing behind her and took her place beside her husband. “As you can see, father, I am quite pleased.” Deidamia slipped her delicate hand into his lion’s paw.

“Mother, father… I present to you…Deidamia of Skyros.”

Thetis stepped forward first to greet the young woman who bowed her head with gentle ease. “Come here child, let me look at you.” Achilles’ mother took in the visage of her new daughter. The olive skin a stark contrast next to Achilles’ golden hues, her hair black as still water, and eyes the deepest black framed by exquisitely long dark lashes. Thetis took her son’s young wife’s hands firmly in her own. “There is no need to stand on such ceremony with me. I am grateful that you have made my son happy while he has…been away.”

“Thank you…I am not sure how I should call you. Forgive me.” Deidamia bowed her head.

“If it pleases you, call me as does Achilles. I am now mother to a daughter.”

The young princess smiled relief. “Yes, Mother.”

“May I present, my husband, King Peleus.” Deidamia turned her eyes toward to king and bowed her head once again. “My lord.”

“My dear, you have brought much joy to heart…even of it forces a renegotiation with Agamemnon. I do not relish that thought, but I do welcome you.” The king took his new daughter into a hearty embrace.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Achilles took his mother’s hands in his own. “One gift yet remains.”

“What more wives?” Peleus laughed.

“My son,” Achilles said.

The king’s mouth hung open. “Son? There is a child?” He recalled the day when Thetis had placed Achilles, small and fragile, in his arms. His pride and his heart were boundless in that moment. Now, a son sprung from his own son’s loins, blood of his blood, this was a gift unexpected so soon.

Thetis beamed as her eyes glittered with tears. “A grandson.”

Peleus echoed her joy. “A grandson, indeed, you present the kingdom with a legacy.”

“We call him
Neoptolemus
. He is all of two summers.” Achilles, pleased with the greeting his parents gave, scooped his bride into his arms. Deidamia squealed in surprised delight.

“We are off to our chamber. We bring the child this evening!” Achilles winked, flashing a roguish grin at his parents. The ever present slaves pushed opened the great hall doors before Achilles could command it, leaving Peleus and Thetis staring after him.

The king took Thetis’ hand in his. “Many years have passed since that night...it seems a lifetime ago. Now our son stands before us a grown man with a child of his own.”

“Peleus,” Thetis spoke his name softly. “It has been a lifetime.”

The king gently squeezed her hands regret filling him. “The burning...I feared for his safety. I was angry when I sent you away.”

“And after?” Thetis asked.

“After my anger subsided, I realized you would never harm our son. But my pride was too great to say so.”

“And now?” Thetis asked, the distance in her voice reflecting the wall around her heart.

“Is there a chance you might forgive an old fool? Would you be willing to take your place, once again, by my side...as my queen?”

“Perhaps, there is a way, Peleus. The distance between who we were and where we are is no small space.” Thetis slipped her hands from his. “For now, I suppose we have nothing to do but ready a feast. Shall I command the kitchens, then? Boar or lamb?”

“Both. We are celebrating our son’s return home, a wedding...and an heir for Phthia.” The king kissed Thetis lightly on the cheek. “Do as you wish.” In this private moment, he allowed himself the luxury of expressing his fondness for her. With rough fingers, he tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

“What is it, my king? There is something more you wish to say?”

“Nothing. Nothing but this.” Peleus took her hands into his own, brushing her fingertips with his lips “I take my leave, my lovely nymph.” Thetis stared after him as he went wondering if she could truly return as wife and queen. She wasn’t certain if she could or if she wanted to.

THE PALACE HALL
shimmered with laurel and olive garlands entwined with strands of sea pearls. Delicate alabaster lamps hung from the ceiling, lighting every corner of the hall where the shields of Peleus’ forefathers hung with pride and honor. The hammered bronze shone as brilliantly as if each shield had been newly forged for the celebration. Amphorae of sweet pomegranate wine and spiced honey wine flowed freely into every guest’s cup. The tables overflowed with wooden and silver trays stacked high with sticky dates, apples, honey glazed figs, oranges, olives cured with garlic and rosemary, and flat breads, bowls of olive oil steeped with wild sage, and fresh goat cheese by the slab. Lamb and roasted boar on spits sizzled and sputtered over the fire filling the air and making mouths water in anticipation of the main course.

At the high table, the king and queen sat overlooking their guests. Achilles and Deidamia sat to the right of them in a place of honor with little Neoptolemus cradled safely in his mother’s arms.

“You have out done yourself, my goddess.” Peleus whispered in Thetis’ ear, teasing her as he used to do.

She squeezed his hand beneath the table and smiled. How could she tell him that this feast was not only welcome for their son, but also a fare-well? Once away to Troy, their beloved son, the golden warrior of Phthia would never return to the land of his birth. Thetis knew Achilles returned not only to introduce his family to the court, but to leave them under Phthia’s protection.

Busy slaves served the roasted meat by the platters. Hungry hands dug into the greasy meal. In the house of Peleus, guests were accorded the first portion with the king and his family serving themselves last. Hospitality was only satisfied with full bellies. Late into the night, the stars spiked high against the mysterious dark. Many guests slept where they had fallen or laid their heads down, sleepy with drink and food. Only the most distinguished guests were given private chambers. A balding singer plucked tiredly on a lyre, reciting ballads of Titans and heroes long since passed.

At long last, Achilles finally pulled the king away from the few remaining guests. “Father, there is more to my return,” Achilles began.

“More?” Peleus eyed his son quizzically.

“You have heard of the fleet gathering at Aulis, have you not?”

“Yes, but what is that to me? I made no dim-witted oath for Helen’s hand,” he chuckled. “One wife at a time, I say. It is enough for most men.”

Achilles chose his words cautiously. “Agamemnon has summoned me to join his army.”

“Of course he did. Why, he never—” Peleus choked on his wine, remembering the words Thetis revealed about Achilles’ fate, and the reason he was sent away. “What did you answer?”

“That I would fight in his army, of course. And bring the Myrmidons with me,” Achilles said.

“Bad news follows good. You are married, albeit not to the bride we chose for you. I thank Zeus for that. I had small affection for that Iphigenia girl. Too docile for my taste. But your mother insisted.”

“Perhaps she thought it would spare me having to go to war,” Achilles said. “It is a woman’s way, goddess or not, to protect her own.” Achilles smiled and changed the subject. “So, the Myrmidons and I will set sail when Apollo climbs the sky. If you will allow it.”

Peleus knew it was time for Achilles to make his own way as a warrior and a captain, as he once did with Jason.
Yes, it is time.
“I had always hoped you would return from Skyros and take your rightful place as Prince of Phthia. But I see that must wait. The Myrmidons are yours. I have but one request.”

“What is that Father?

“Take Phoenix with you. And my man Patrokles.”

Achilles drained his cup of wine. “The man who lost his eyes for whoring? Who you gave a kingdom to? Surely Phoenix would rather any other detail than this.”

“He will go. He owes me much.” 

“He owes everything to Chiron.” Achilles grabbed a half-filled amphora and poured his own cup. “Who is this Patrokles?”

Peleus sat down on a bench and pushed his diadem from his head. “He is a noble man. He has a few years on you. He is loyal. Reads people better than most. He is skilled somewhat in the healing arts. He will be a good companion for you. All captains need their second.”

“I will see it done,” the golden warrior said. When Peleus took his leave, Achilles stared after him. He had spent years apart from his father, yet he loved him. He realized in that moment how hard it would be to say farewell to those he was leaving behind forever...Deidamia, his son...It was a small mercy that he chose not to reveal his fatal destiny. False hope, he deemed, was better than having none at all.