Captive Bride 2; Daughter of Sparta

by Andromeda

  *******

  “What do you mean you don’t want to be king?” Zenobia asked Matthias.

  “I meant what I said, Mama,” Matthias said. “I can’t do it. I don’t want the throne.”

  Zenobia stood up, not knowing what to do or say. “Why?”

  “I can’t handle the pressure, Mama,” Matthias explained. “I can’t have all of those people watching me. I can’t have all those people judging me, waiting for me to slip up. I can’t do this, Mama.”

  “So you’re going to run away from your responsibilities?” Zenobia asked. “To your people? To your family? To your house? You chose…”

  “No, Mama!” Matthias said firmly. “I didn’t choose this! You did. Well…my order of birth did. Mama, I don’t want to be king; I never truly wanted to be king. I want to explore…I want to travel all around the world and find new places. I want to get onto a ship and bring back exotic things that you’ve never seen before.”

  Zenobia listened and she sighed, sitting back down, and then she looked to her son. She could tell that he was passionate about his wants and desires—what he wants to do—and she saw that he was telling the truth. He didn’t want to become king, and as she thought about it, she secretly knew it. She also knew that the other sons wouldn’t want to become king, nor did they have the spirit for it.

  Becoming a ruler of thousands, sometimes millions, of people was hard work, and it took the right kind of people to handle it. The path to the throne was a hard one; getting it was easy, keeping it was the hard part. Not only that, but not everyone can do it, and the right to rule is something you must be born with; you can’t create it.

  As she looked into the eyes of Matthias, she nodded and sighed, patting the seat next to her. “If you are absolutely certain that you don’t want this, then I won’t force you to do anything. I will support you. But you know that not a lot of people will like this.”

  “And since when have you ever cared what other people thought, Mama?” Matthias asked. “You always did what you thought was right, remember?”

  Zenobia smirked. “True, so true. I will have to tell the Council, and we have a meeting in a bit so…”

  “No time like the present,” Matthias sighed. “I will go with you if you want.”

  “That would be good,” Zenobia said. “As we both know, talking to them will be extremely hard.”

  To say that talking to the Council was going to be extremely hard was an understatement. The moment that Matthias told them that he no longer wished to be trained as king, the whole chamber burst into chaos and arguing. Some tried to ask him why, others demanded that he take the throne anyway, and others just glared at him silently.

  “Enough of this!” Zenobia shouted over them. “You will do as my son wishes! He said that he doesn’t want to become king, so that is his desire!”

  “So does that mean the throne passes to his brother, Prince Anaxandridas?” a councilman asked.

  “No,” Matthias said firmly. “I know that my younger brother doesn’t want the throne, and he is too inexperienced. There is another, however, that I know will be perfect for the job. They have had the same education as me, and will be an efficient ruler.”

  “And who might that be, my lord?” a councilman asked.

  “My sister,” Matthias said. “Philomena.”

  *******

  “My lady, the Queen wishes to see you,” a servant said.

  Philomena looked up from the languages she was translating into Greek with an arched eyebrow. “It’s awfully late, might this be handled tomorrow?”

  “I’m afraid it cannot, my lady,” the servant said. “The queen said for you to stop whatever you were doing and come to her right now.”

  Philomena found this very strange, but she knew that something had to be amiss if her mother was summoning her at this time of night. So, she closed her book and got up, following the servant down the halls. She was surprised to find that the servant was leading her to the council chambers, a room that she had never been to before. For a moment, she stopped at the door, but the servant nodded for her to continue and then bowed, moving back. She swallowed and licked her dry lips, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress and then stepped inside.

  All heads turned to her. The moment she was inside, Philomena could almost feel their judgement upon her. She felt as if she was a prized cow being sent to market, her heart hammering in her chest.

  Zenobia sat on the throne, with Matthias standing at her side; both smiled at her, though Matthias’s was brighter. Philomena didn’t know what was going on, nor was she sure if she wanted to find out, but when she approached the throne, she bowed to her mother and then lifted her head.

  “Might I ask why I’ve been summoned?” she asked.

  “You have been summoned…to answer a question,” Zenobia said. “And I want you to be truthful.”

  Philomena nodded. “I shall.”

  “If I didn’t wish to be king,” Matthias said, “would you wish to be queen?”

  Philomena looked up at him sharply, greatly confused. “W…What?”

  “If he didn’t wish to be king, would you wish to be queen?” Zenobia repeated for her. “It’s a truly simple question, my dear.”

  Philomena blushed slightly. “I…I do not believe I am at liberty to answer this question… Surely, if Matthias didn’t wish to become king, then the crown would pass to Anaxandridas?”

  “And what if Anaxandridas didn’t want the crown?” Matthias pressed. “Or Aero. What would you say?”

  Philomena nibbled on her lip. She raised her eyes to her mother to ask for guidance, but Zenobia’s face was a blank slate; she was on her own. Her mind raced for an answer and yet, strangely, she knew it. She knew the answer deep within her; the answer she knew that no one would like, but she knew was the right answer.

  “Yes…” she whispered softly.

  “I’m sorry?” Zenobia said. “No one can hear you.”

  “I said,” Philomena repeated louder, “yes.”

  The councilmen burst into arguments, some for her and some against her, but most were against her. To them, the thought of a woman ruling over them was an unnatural thing; there was no way that such a thing could happen. Philomena watched them, listening to them shouting and pointing at her furiously. She glanced at her mother for her, but once again, Zenobia’s face was cold and blank; she had to reign in these men on her own.

  Slowly, she turned to face them and took a deep breath. She was the daughter of Alexander of Sparta and Zenobia of Ethiopia; she had twice the amount of royal blood flowing within her veins. Much more than any of these so-called ‘Lords of the Council’ have within them; she had to remember that.

  “SILENCE!” she yelled out.

  Everyone quieted down and looked at her in confusion. Philomena cleared her throat and lifted her chin, summoning her courage.

  “Now that I have your attention,” she said. “I am going to repeat myself: I accept what my brother, Prince Matthias, has offered me. If he does not wish to become king, and my younger brothers do not want it, then I will accept it.”

  “But you are a woman!” a councilman blurted out.

  “And you believe my sex makes me weaker than my male counterparts?” Philomena asked, locking eyes with the man. “Then you are gravely mistaken. If I am not wrong, it was my mother, Queen Zenobia, who led us to victory against the Persians. She took the head of their emperor; she has proven that women have the ability to both lead armies and rule as she’s done for years. Who can deny that she is a highly effective and wise ruler?”

  The councilmen murmured among themselves and nodded. They agreed with her, as Zenobia had done many things for the kingdom ever since she came into power. Sure, some might frown upon her because she was African and a woman, but she had proved time and time again that she was more than worthy in ruling.

  “And if the gods bless me to have the throne,” Philomena continued, “then who are we to argue with them?”

 
; “The gods have spoken,” Matthias said to her, stepping forward. “As they have told me that I have no business in becoming king. Instead, they have chosen another more worthy vessel to be their mouthpiece to their subjects.”

  Philomena turned around to face him, her eyes wide. “No…” she whispered.

  Matthias smiled and turned to face the councilmen. “I will formally step down and present my sister Philomena as the heir to the throne of Sparta in my place. I ask that you all arise and bow to your future queen.”

  The councilmen looked amongst themselves, but they knew better than to question what the royal family did. So, they all stood and bowed their heads to Philomena in respect, accepting what was happening. However, there was a single councilman who wasn’t happy, and wasn’t going to pretend that he was. Zenon. His eyes burned holes into the young woman as he watched her stand up.

  This was unseen for him, and he didn’t know what to do with this new development; he didn’t know what to do with this shift in power. However…an idea began to buzz in the back of his mind that he had no name for as of yet, but the seeds had been planted and all they needed was water to grow in order to flourish.

  Chapter Five

  Abeeku grunted as he swung his sword, cutting a head clean off with a single swipe. Panting, he lowered his sword and looked around. The ground around him was covered in the blood and entrails of the slain; hundreds of rebels who thought that they could revolt against the might of Sparta. Their argument was that Sparta wasn’t giving them enough money to govern themselves, but in reality, it was their governors who were pocketing the money, and then lying to their citizens.

  Abeeku didn’t want to kill the rebels, but he had no choice in the matter and had to do as instructed. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he left the body—having to walk over several—in order to get in line with the other soldiers, who were leaving the battlefield.

  His mind was on home, on the beautiful girl that was waiting for him. He wondered if she had changed over the last year, both physically and mentally. She would be 15 years old when he returned, almost 16, and it was a time of great importance for princesses. She would begin to receive marriage proposals at this time, and Abeeku hated the thought of it.

  To think that someone else might hold her, kiss her, make love to her, infuriated him. Philomena was his; he knew so from the day that he had met her. No one was going to take her from him, not even the queen herself.

  He grinned when he thought of returning back home, showing her the trophies that he had gotten from his travels. The territories of Sparta were large and rich; Abeeku could see that it took a firm hand to rule them. No one better for the job than Zenobia, of course. Yet…he had a thought of what it would be like if Philomena were queen.

  She was just as smart as her mother, though not a warrior; but that didn’t really matter. The pen was mightier than the sword in many situations and Philomena was the smartest person that he knew. Yes, if it ever came to it, Philomena would be the best choice of the future ruler of Sparta.

  How he missed her, though. He wondered if her body was changing from that of a young girl, and into that of a woman. Abeeku knew his feelings, what he wished to do with her, but he wondered if she was ready for it, or if it would be proper. He knew that he wished to ask for her hand one day, that he wished to be officially able to court her, but would the queen allow it? Would those pompous men who call themselves the Council allow it?

  Philomena was a rich prize for any man to have, and he wanted to make himself worthy of her. If there was one thing that Spartans knew, it was war; they had perfected it and had the best warriors in the world. He knew that in order to show that he was worthy of her hand, then he would have to prove that he was a warrior equal to, if not better than, a normal Spartan warrior.

  *******

  The streets of Sparta were lined with cheering and chanting people who wanted to raise their voices in celebration for their wonderful army. Abeeku sat astride his horse and waved to the crowds, basking in their admiration, and even caught a flower that had been tossed to him. The army moved in slow progression down the main street as they headed to the palace, yet no one really minded. They had returned to the capital city in triumph. They only lost a small number of their army to the rebellion, but it was under the leadership of General Srax that their numbers were so small.

  Abeeku rode at his side, though he seemed a bit nervous. He should be in the back, on foot, with the other normal soldiers; why was he up front and on a horse? He didn’t mind, truly; he’d always loved to ride, but this smelled of something suspicious, as he wanted to know what was going on. Swallowing his courage, he turned to the general and cleared his throat.

  “My lord,” Abeeku said a bit nervously. “Might I ask why I am here?”

  Srax turned to him, his single eye locked onto the young man. He lost his right eye in the war against Persia, but to him, it didn’t seem that it ever left. Srax was still as formidable in battle as ever. “What do you mean?”

  Abeeku swallowed again. “I mean…why am I on this horse, at your side? I should be walking with the others…”

  “You will ride where I say,” Srax said gruffly. “You will do what I say, as there is a reason why you are here.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Abeeku said humbly and turned his head away.

  They reached the royal courtyard and Srax hopped down from his horse before he nodded for Abeeku to do the same. The young man obeyed, and walked a step behind the elder as they moved up the white marble steps.

  Standing at the top was the entire royal family. Abeeku’s eyes searched them and when he found her, his heart thundered in his chest. Philomena stood next to her mother, dressed in white and gold, yet…there was a new air about her. She held her head high, her hands clasped delicately in front of her, dressed in golden rings. Around her neck was a golden choker with a large ruby in the middle, matching armbands graced her upper arms. She looked like…a queen. Everyone bowed when Zenobia stepped forward and raised her hand for silence.

  “Once again the gods smile upon Sparta!” she declared, her voice echoing. “Our armies return victorious and prove that we Spartans are no morals equal!”

  The soldiers and crowds roared in approval, several beating their shields with their spears. Zenobia nodded for Srax, Abeeku, and the other ranked members of the army to step inside the cool of the palace, no doubt to talk. Abeeku looked to Philomena, but his heart seemed to sink when she didn’t cast more than a single glance in his direction.

  Everyone followed the queen to the throne room, and when she climbed up the dais to sit on her throne, Abeeku was shocked to see that Philomena climbed up the dais with her mother and took a seat that looked like a miniature throne. So much had changed since he’d been gone, as he remembered that Matthias was the one who sat on the miniature throne, not Philomena.

  Srax approached the thrones and bowed his head. “We have been successful as you have heard. We have crushed the rebellion and in tribute, I have brought the two leaders alive for you to handle as you see fit.”

  “Their bodies and souls will be given to the gods,” Zenobia said firmly and with a nod.

  Abeeku almost felt sorry for the rebels, as he knew their fate ended in death. Being ‘offered’ to the gods of Sparta, mainly Ares and Athena, meant ritualistic torture followed by execution. But then again, they revolted, so they should have known the cost if they failed.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Srax said, nodding to the guards to take the prisoners. “But I also have something to ask of you.”

  Zenobia tilted her head. “Proceed.”

  “I am getting older in years,” Srax began. “And my wife is with child again, so I ask that I step down from my position as your Head General and give it to someone who I know deserves it.”

  “And who might that be?” Zenobia asked.

  Srax turned to Abeeku. “Him.”

  Abeeku’s heart froze in his chest as he turned to face Srax. “Me?”
>
  “Abeeku?” Philomena said.

  To hear her speak for the first time made Abeeku’s heart flutter, and he turned to face her. She looked like a goddess on the throne, her eyes wide in shock and confusion by Srax’s words.

  “Yes,” Srax said nodding. “Him. Abeeku has proved himself on the battlefield. I don’t see why he shouldn’t take this position.”

  “I will hear what he has to say,” Zenobia said as she turned her sharp eyes to the young man.

  Abeeku’s throat began to dry, and he forced himself to swallow several times, in order to moisten it. As shocking as these words were…he wasn’t exactly upset by them. This is what he wanted: to further himself within the military and prove that he was worthy to marry Philomena. Having Srax as a reference made it a lot easier.

  “I…I hope that General Srax sees me as worthy…of such a feat…” Abeeku said slowly.

  “I do, boy,” Srax said, scratching his neck.

  “I would ask that General Srax remain as my advisor,” Abeeku said. “If he so wishes.”

  Srax grunted and shrugged. “I do see a reason why I shall not.”

  Zenobia nodded. “It is settled then. I will make the official announcement later, but I do not want you to leave just yet, Srax. Show Abeeku the ropes.”

  Srax shrugged and nodded. “Sure, why not? After I do, I need a break.”

  Everyone couldn’t help but smile a bit as they knew that he really wanted to return to Kila’s arms. No one could blame him; Kila was a beautiful woman. Abeeku watched as Zenobia whispered something to Philomena, and then the young woman stood up and left the room. He glanced to Zenobia, unsure, but she wasn’t paying attention to him; she was talking to Srax. Seizing this opportunity, Abeeku slipped from the chamber.

  *******

  It didn’t take him long to find her, and the moment he did, he pulled her into his arms. She smelled like orange blossoms and cinnamon, a mouthwatering aroma that made his heart thud loudly in his chest. For a moment, he buried his face into her dark brown curls, inhaling her scent before he began to kiss and nibble her neck.