Echoes of Olympus
Darrin Drader
Monumental Works Publishing
Fall River, MA
PUBLISHED BY
Monumental Works Publishing
Darrin Drader, Publisher
29D Rolling Green Drive,
Fall River, Massachusetts 02720
https://www.facebook.com/Darrin-Drader-269839809788260/
Copyright ©2012, Darrin Drader
All rights reserved. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher.
All persons, places, and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Interior Design: Danielle McPhail
www.sidhenadaire.com
Dedication
"To Shayne, who has been down for an adventure for as long as I can remember.”
Historical Note
Most book critics would classify this book as heroic fantasy. Odds are that if you’re reading this, that means you are already familiar with the fact that books in this literary genre tend to take place in pseudo-medieval periods where humans live alongside mythical beings, such as elves, dwarves, and monsters that menace humanity. Typically, these imaginary worlds have a pantheon (or sometimes pantheons) of gods, which meddle in the affairs of mortals, learned wizards who are adept at the art of magic, and heroes who right wrongs, fight evil, undertake wondrous quests, and overcome great adversity. Many traditional fantasy worlds have numerous city-states, small kingdoms, and sometimes one or two large kingdoms or empires that dominate their world. This series of books subscribes to many of those assumptions while placing the genre within a historical context that seems more appropriate to this author.
When looking at the conventions of the fantasy genre, it should be noted that many of the items listed above have little in common with the Middle Ages. Many of the monsters that have become fantasy staples have their origins in civilizations that predate the Roman Empire: dragons, the Medusa, minotaurs, harpies, undead creatures, and a whole host of others. The notion of larger than life heroes had some representation in the period, such as the tale of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, or Beowulf, but these are really no more remarkable than the tales of Gilgamesh, Herakles, Jason and the Argonauts, Achilles, Perseus, Theseus, and Alexander the Great.
While there were tales of dragon slayers in the middle ages, there was one element that was distinctly medieval that has very little place in the fantasy genre: the overwhelming presence and dominance of the Christian church. This enormously powerful organization controlled practically every aspect of the lives of the people of the period, it was deeply involved in most politics and the acceptance or rejection of scientific theory, and it was the impetus behind some of the most destructive wars. Most fantasy authors hand-wave this away and instead embrace polytheism in their books, creating something that is culturally closer to ancient Earth than it is the Middle Ages, while indulging in the imagery and technology level of that period.
While every approach to fiction is theoretically valid as long as it entertains, it is this author’s belief that the ancient Greeks and their mythology bear a greater similarity to the fantasy genre than the medieval period. Beginning with mythology, their gods quarrel among each other and they play an active role in the lives of mortals. Sometimes they work to advance their own agendas while at other times they employ heavy-handed methods to teach mortals the folly of putting themselves above the gods. Also like most typical fantasy stories, the individual gods of Mount Olympus usually have a portfolio of natural forces that they embody, such as the weather, both internal and external (Zeus), marriage and fidelity (Hera), war and wisdom (Athena), and wine and fertility (Dionysus).
In addition to the mythological trappings of Ancient Greece, the political landscape also bears more in common with most fantasy settings. While Greece is a powerful region of the world, there are no kingdoms in the traditional sense. Granted, this is not a rule without exceptions; Macedonia and the Persian Empire were extremely important during this period, but Greece itself remained a collection of small city-states called poleis, each of which maintained complete control over its own system of government. There were periods when one state would rule others, such as when Mycenae rose to dominance during the Bronze Age, or when Sparta ruled Athens for a year at the end of the Peloponnesian war. During the Classical period, the city-states were largely aligned according to their alliance with either the Delian or Peloponnesian Leagues. And then of course there was the period of a united Greece after they were conquered by King Phillip II of Macedonia and later his son Alexander the Great.
During the Classical Age, the city of Athens enjoyed a golden age during which it was the dominant power in Greece. This was the period when art and sculpture reached its height, and the reconstructed Parthenon represented the greatest cultural monument built by the Greeks. This age of dominance came to an end in 404 B.C., when the Delian League lost the Peloponnesian War, a war that they had foolishly started. Less than fifty years later, a weakened Athens declared war against King Philip II of Macedonia, another war that ended in defeat. Later, Philip II was assassinated and Alexander the Great consolidated power in Ancient Greece before invading Asia Minor and conquering most of the known world.
But this book is not intended to be a history lesson; there are numerous books out there that lay out exactly what happened, when, and why. This work is heroic fantasy set in an alternate timeline that concerns itself with Ancient Greece. Specifically, the Peloponnesian War was never fought. A stronger Athens defeated King Philip II, and now sits as the most powerful city-state in all of Greece. Meanwhile, in Athens, the orator Demosthenes, who once convinced Athens to go to war against Phillip II, has been appointed to the position of General and enjoys almost the same degree of power once possessed by its great leader Pericles.
Another important difference is that in this alternate version of Athens, in 345 B.C., the philosopher Aristotle conducted a debate with another scholarly leader named Theophrastus in the agora of Athens concerning the place of women in society. Previously considered little more than possessions that were to be sheltered from the world at large and used for reproduction, the philosophers taught women as they would men and then compared their experiences in public. The conclusion that they arrived at was that women were intellectually, spiritually, and sometimes physically the equal of men. As a result, Demosthenes used his influence over the city to declare women free to go out in public unescorted, to vote, to conduct trade, and to join the ranks of the military. This change was resisted but ultimately accepted by the men of the city, and the women soon established their place as equals.
It is into this world of enlightenment, democracy, monsters, myth, high art, and political intrigue that the story begins – in the city of Athens on the day the soldiers return from their campaign in Macedonia.
Prelude
Lycothena awoke to the sound of the drums signaling the return of the Athenian army from Macedonia. She had heard rumors that the Athenian army was approaching the polis in victory and that the army would arrive on any day, but the realization that this day had finally arrived immediately banished the grogginess of the morning. She swung her legs out over the side of the bed, finding her sandals with her feet, and then stood up and pulled a white peplos over her head, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. She looked into the polished bronze mirror that hung on the wall of her bedroom as she began to style her hair. Prior to this moment, she hadn't known that this would be the day the soldiers were returning, and sh
e quickly realized that she lacked the time for an ornate hairdo if she was to arrive at the agora in a timely manner. Instead, she pulled her blond locks back, tied them off with a strap of leather, and then took a two-inch long Daphne leaf from a small table and began to chew it to freshen her breath. She glanced once more in the mirror and smiled, deciding that she looked as ravishing as she was likely to in so little time, then ran for the door. Today would mark the return of her love, Euphron.
Sprinting through the household, she barely registered that her mother was busy tending to the leaves of the various plants that were hung from the ceiling in the common areas, or that her father, a grizzled gray haired war veteran-turned-grocer was sitting at a table analyzing a pile of figs that appeared dry and withered. “Dear Lycothena,” her mother called, “be sure to let the poor boy have some time before you begin to smother him.”
Lycothena nodded, smiled, ran through the common room, and out into the warm morning air of the polis. She could see the green hills in the distance, and smell the sea in the air. She felt alive this morning, as she had not felt since Euphron’s departure.
Even at a run, the agora was still several minutes away, but she guessed by the sound of the drums that she would arrive at the grand square before the army marched through. Excitement and adrenaline propelled her forward along the cobblestone streets. A number of people were already moving in the same direction as her, but she sped past them on her way, drawing irritated looks from those she nudged out of her path.
It felt like half a lifetime passed between leaving her family’s house and her arrival at the agora, but she eventually did arrive at the open gathering place. She was pleased that the soldiers hadn't yet arrived, which meant that she would be able to see her love as he entered the square. She had imagined this moment for months. He would be clad in his boiled leather cuirass and his shiny bronze helmet, and he would carry his round shield proudly.
Lycothena had known Euphron since childhood, both of them the children of Athenian land owners. She remembered the moment she had realized that she was in love with the boy who had once pulled her hair and chased her through the streets, trying to urinate on her. It had been a tender moment, after the death of her grandfather, when Euphron, now becoming muscular, with a voice that periodically cracked, approached her, wordlessly took her hand and held her in a comforting embrace as she cried in his arms. Things had been different between them after that, as they spent more time together and explored each other’s bodies away from the judgmental eyes of their parents.
When he had fully come of age, he did what most noble youths did and enlisted in the army. She still remembered seeing him standing in his armor for the first time, his dark hair matted beneath his open-faced helm, and a steel sword in his hands. Of course he should have left his gear back at the barracks, but she remembered that he had wanted to impress her that day. It was the day that he proposed marriage to her, and it was the same day that he informed her that they would soon march to Macedonia to deal with the threat of King Philip the second. She had gladly accepted his proposal, while crying in his chest that he would be leaving. “Just this one campaign,” he had promised, “and then I’ll oversee the workers in the fields, and the two of us will be happy, with children laughing at our feet.”
Lycothena banished the memories as she caught sight of her friend Ophene. The other girl was tall, dark of complexion, with a long, straight nose, and a pointed chin. Unlike Lycothena, her body was neither tall nor curvy. In fact, she looked rather plain, which was probably why she had thus far failed to attract the attention of any of the men they knew. Her friend called to her and then moved alongside. “I can’t imagine what you’re doing down here today,” she said.
Lycothena hugged her friend quickly and then started moving toward the entrance of the agora. “It has felt like forever since I saw him last,” she said.
“And you’ve been moping the entire time,” Ophene said with a playful smile. “So what do you plan to do once he’s back?”
Lycothena smiled as she said, “There’s an abandoned house near the edge of the polis. We’ve used it before to get away from our parents. I intend to take him there and then let him do anything he wants.”
“Anything?” Ophene asked.
“Anything,” Lycothena replied.
“I would imagine that you’re likely to be worn out and out of sorts tomorrow. You know that he’s been in the company of men for some time now. Suppose that he’s found the company of someone he prefers….”
Lycothena’s face grew serious. “I should slap you for that,” she said. “But I’ll forgive you this time. Euphron has never indulged in the attentions of older men and I’m certain that he’s been saving himself since he’s been away.”
“Your love is strong,” Ophene replied in a neutral tone. “It must be nice.”
“Today is to be a happy day,” Lycothena said. “Even you will find a reason to be happy. Maybe one of these soldiers who has not seen a woman in months will find you pleasing….”
It was Ophene’s turn to appear hurt, but Lycothena shrugged it off as the beginning of the procession of soldiers entered the agora. She recognized the dark haired Phileoneus at the front of the group. He carried his shield in one hand and a clay pot in the other. Behind him, soldiers marched a golden haired boy who was bound by bronze manacles. He appeared no older than six or seven years old, but his eyes looked red and weary. “Who is that, I wonder,” Lycothena said.
“I have no idea.” Ophene shrugged.
Lycothena watched the line of soldiers and noted the pitiful shape that many of the men were in. Most of them wore bandages wrapped around their arms or legs, a few of them were missing a limb, or their faces looked as though they had been cut into. She suddenly felt a wave of apprehension as she realized that the conquest of Macedonia had not been an easy victory. She looked for unwounded soldiers and spotted only a few among them. What’s more, by the time all of the soldiers had entered the agora, there appeared to be half as many as had left the polis. Apprehension soon turned to worry as she realized that she could not spot Euphron among the others. She quieted her nerves, reminding herself that there might be more soldiers that remained outside the polis, or she might be looking at him among the soldiers without recognizing him. He was disciplined enough not to break ranks upon the sight of the woman he loved.
Phileoneus marched forward, to the side of the agora Lycothena had first entered and stopped before her cousin Demosthenes. The man was her elder by about ten years. Today, he wore a blue toga. His hair was brown and wavy, and his beard was kept short, but the things that Lycothena always noted about the man were that he had heavy brows, a forehead that was already creased with wrinkles, and serious, un-humorous eyes. This war had occurred at his urging, and his influence within the polis was rising.
The crowd grew silent, and Phileoneus dropped to one knee. Demosthenes motioned for him to stand, and he said, “Honorable Phileoneus, it is good to see you again. What news do you bring from Macedonia?”
Phileoneus began to speak in a loud, deep voice that was clearly intended to reach the ears of the people assembled here. “We marched to Macedonia and we return in victory!” He was briefly interrupted by applause and cheers. He removed the pottery lid and lifted out the disembodied and bloodied head of a man with a full head of curly brown hair and a short beard. “I present you with the head of King Philip of Macedonia.” Cheers once again erupted.
“Who is this boy you bring before me?” Demosthenes inquired.
“He is the son of the former king, a boy named Alexander,” the general replied.
“What sort of names are Philip and Alexander?” Ophene asked.
“Barbaric ones,” Lycothena replied. “They do not roll off the tongue like our names. They are rough names that go with rough people who live in rough lands.”
The general nudged the golden haired boy forward toward Demosthenes, and said quietly, “On your knees, boy. Show some r
espect for the man who holds your fate in his hands.” The boy did as he was told, and Lycothena noted again the haunted look on his face. But there was something else as well, though she couldn’t quite place it. Was it defiance? Or perhaps it was a barely concealed lust for vengeance? She sensed that it ran deeper than the simple loss of his father. “What would you have us do with the boy? Should we put him to the sword?” Phileoneus asked.
Demosthenes stood silently for a moment, considering the possibilities. Lycothena knew that matters of this nature were normally brought before the polis, and they would take a vote, but her cousin was slowly taking on the responsibilities of decisions like this, skipping the assembly altogether. “We have defeated Macedonia. It no longer poses a threat to us, but I believe that any efforts to run the country from here will be met with resistance. It would be a costly occupation, and an unnecessary one.” He paused for a moment, then looked at the boy again. “It would be a crime to kill the boy. Instead, I suggest that we put a weak regent on the throne of Macedonia. In the mean time, we will raise this boy ourselves and educate him. When the time comes, he will take his father’s throne with no malice toward us in his heart.”
A man garbed in a white toga, with dark hair stepped forward, “I would be pleased to tutor him myself at the Lyceum,” he said. Lycothena realized that this was Aristotle, a man she had long sought to meet, in hopes he would allow her to attend the university.
On any other day, Lycothena would have been excited to see the famed philosopher, but on this day she needed to quiet her racing heart. She needed to know that Euphron yet lived. “I’ll find you later,” she said to Ophene as she neared the group clustered about her cousin. She waited long moments for the conversation to halt, then approached Phileoneus.
Echoes of Olympus (The Atheniad Book 1) Page 1