by Andromeda
Darius laughed, finding a light bubbling friendship between the two. “I have noticed that the Queen Mother is like that.”
“One thing I learned being in the royal household is to never, ever make Queen Zenobia angry,” Abeeku chuckled. “She turns into a harpy—a demonic creature that the Greeks fear so much.”
Darius chuckled. “I could see that. Look, I didn’t come here to take your place, if that is what you think I came to Sparta to do. I came here for an agreement; I couldn’t get out of the marriage contract as it would mean peace for my people.”
“I understand,” Abeeku said. “However…you know what Philomena means to me.”
“I do,” Darius said nodding. “So…how about we compromise?”
“Compromise?” Abeeku repeated. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well…when we get back to Sparta…why don’t we share her?” Darius offered.
Abeeku tilted his head. “I am listening.”
“What if…she spent her time with us equally?” Darius explained. “We both know that I must share her bed in order for her to bare heirs for both thrones. However…that doesn’t mean she has to stop sharing with you. What if on certain nights she is in your bed, and on certain nights she is in mine? And any child, no matter what comes, will be known as heirs as it will be of royal blood no matter what, as she carried them.”
This wasn’t exactly a bad idea. It would be good for both of them, and it would stop any jealousy. Though they didn’t know how they were going to get Philomena to agree to such a thing. However, they had a feeling, and planned, that if they told her together and showed that they both wished for it, she might approve of it.
They stayed up long into the night, talking, forming a bond between them. They both wanted to be in the life of Philomena, and if they were going to be, then they had to learn to get along.
*******
The following morning, they stood on a hill, looking down at the Persian army that was against them. Darius looked to Abeeku and nodded; the young man took out his sword, bellowed a war cry and charged. The battle that took place next was horribly gruesome, as they were fighting for survival.
In battle, Darius favored using two swords, a tactic that he learned from his mother. He kept an eye on Abeeku, as this was to be the final battle, the battle that decided who won and who failed. For hours, it seemed to go on; both sides not giving an inch, neither side breaking formation. Briefly, Darius saw the Persian General; the man he knew could end this. So, he left Abeeku’s side; the most critical mistake was made in those split seconds.
Darius ran to the Persian General and engaged in single combat, sparks flew from the force of their blows. But in the end, it was Darius who reigned victorious. Quickly, he cut the man’s head from his shoulders and held it up for all to see.
“PERSIANS!” he bellowed out. “BEHOLD! The head of your general! This war is over!”
The Persian soldiers looked among themselves nervously and then back to their king.
“I will personally pardon any man who drops his weapons right now!” Darius added.
Most of the men dropped their weapons instantly, but then everything happened in slow motion. Darius saw him, a man who must have been loyal to the Council, lift his spear up and throw it. He saw men tackle the man, but it was too late as the spear was headed right for Darius’s heart at blinding speed. He braced himself, waiting for the blow, but it never came. Instead, something was shielding him, a body, and when he looked, his heart leapt into his throat. Abeeku! The man fell to the ground, the spear buried in his chest, coughing blood.
“No!” Darius yelled, dropping to his knees. “No!”
Abeeku coughed again, blood bubbling in his throat. “D…Darius…” he whispered.
“Don’t talk,” Darius said. “We…we will get a healer…”
Abeeku grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close. “T…T…Ta…”
“D…Don’t talk,” Darius pleaded. “Please…don’t talk…”
“Take care…of them…” Abeeku whispered. “P-Prove…y-yourself…w-worthy… T-take…care of…m-my child…”
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, he exhaled deeply, and then he was gone. Abeeku had gone to greet the Ancestors in the spirit world. Darius felt terrible; tears threatened to spill, but he held them back. Lifting his head, he nodded to the soldiers to pick up the body and carry it back to their camp.
He looked down at his hands covered in his blood and he remembered his words: Take care of them…prove yourself worthy…take care of my child.
“I promise I will,” he promised aloud. “I promise you that I will take care of them both. I will raise your child as my own; I will love Philomena the way you did. I will prove myself worthy of your friendship; I make you this warrior’s promise.”
Chapter Nineteen
The people cheered as the royal army came through the streets of Sparta. The soldiers waved to their families as they made their way to the royal palace. When they entered the gates, the royal family stood there, ready to greet them.
Philomena’s eyes scanned the men, looking for Abeeku. Her hand rested on the soft swell of her belly, her condition visible for all to see. Yet…she didn’t see him. She lifted her head, as Darius trotted over on his horse and jumped down.
“Where is he?” she asked. “Where is Abeeku?”
Darius’s face was pained. “I…It would be best…if we talked inside…”
She knew. The moment he said those words, she knew. “No…” she gasped. “No…No…No!”
“Philomena…” Darius said gently, reaching out a hand to her.
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled. “This…This is all your fault! If you hadn’t come here…Abeeku would still be alive!”
“Philomena…” Darius repeated gently.
She turned and fled into the palace, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dorian appeared at his side and watched as Philomena ran away. He cleared his throat and Darius turned to him.
“Yes?” he asked, wanting to go after her.
“I see the battle was bittersweet, my lord?” Dorian asked.
“Yes…it was,” Darius said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I…I made Abeeku a promise…and I do not tend to break it.”
“If your promise was to pursue her, then I suggest you act on it immediately,” Dorian suggested.
Darius nodded and walked after Philomena. As he left, he didn’t see the smirk that formed on Dorian’s lips. All was falling into place; all the pieces were forming together. He made a mental note to pay his spy within the army while he walked back into the palace, thinking of his next move. It would be much harder to get rid of Darius he knew, but if he wanted to be king, then he had to play all his cards right.
Inside her bedchamber, Philomena was sobbing into her pillow, unchecked tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t want to believe it was possible; she didn’t want to believe he was gone, yet she felt it. She remembered not long ago, she woke with a powerful pain in her stomach. She wasn’t losing the child, but the pain was so great she felt as if a part of her was being torn out. And figuratively, it was; her heart was being torn from her body. Abeeku was gone.
Her hand went to her belly, the roundness firm against her palm; it brought a new round of tears. He was gone; he would never live to see their child. The healers and midwives had told her it was to be a girl, and she was happy at once when she found out. A son might prove to be a rival to any child she might have had with Darius, but a girl…a girl would be all her own.
A knock on the door made her lift her head. “Who is there?” she called out.
“It is I,” Darius said. “I know you might not wish to talk to me…”
“Get away from my chambers!” she yelled at the door. “You…You murderer!”
“Philomena, let me in,” Darius said calmly. “We have to talk.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer; instead, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. His eyes roamed
over the chambers until they landed on her form. Slowly, he walked to her side and knelt before her.
“Philomena…” he said gently. “Please…listen to me…”
“I don’t want to hear a thing you have to say,” she snapped. “Just leave me alone!”
“No, I shall not,” Darius said firmly. “I promised Abeeku that I wouldn’t.”
She slapped him before she could stop herself. “Don’t say his name! You are not worthy to say his name! If it weren't for you, he’d still be alive! Don’t say anything to me unless you can bring him back!”
Darius hung his head, shame weighing him down. He felt that she was right, or better yet, he knew she was. He couldn’t help but feel, couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. If they didn’t go to war for him, then maybe Abeeku would still be alive…
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he said. “And I know that you might not forgive me, but I made a promise to him to watch over you and his child.”
“I don’t want your protection,” she growled at him. “I want you to die; go to Hades and bring Abeeku back.”
Darius frowned. “I am your husband. Like it or not, we are married and we will begin to act like it. I will not press my advances upon you now, but when the baby is weaned, I will come to your bed and you will welcome me. I promised Abeeku that I would look after you and that child, and I will do it. But I will have my full rights as your husband.”
She watched as he stood and left. Before he could leave, she threw a pillow at him and screamed curses in her mother’s native tongue, before falling back on the bed to cry for her lost beloved.
Chapter Twenty
A servant shook Zenobia from a deep sleep, and the moment she looked into her eyes, she knew. It was time. Leaping from the bed, she pulled a cloak over her gown and ran as fast as she could. She could hear the screams from down the halls; she could see the crowd of people around Philomena’s bed chamber. She knew that now was the time; now a new little one would join their household.
They parted and she stepped inside. Her eyes looked around, and when she saw Philomena on the bed, her body straining to relieve its burden, Zenobia had mixed emotions. She had always hoped that the Ancestors would preserve her in order to see her grandchildren’s birth. Now she would be able to do so.
“Move,” she commanded, pushing her way to the bed. “Out of my way.”
Philomena panted. Dressed only in a thin gown, her body was covered in sweat; her hair was a rat’s nest, plastered to her forehead. “Mama…”
“Mena…” Zenobia said softly.
She knelt by her daughter and kissed her forehead. “What is wrong, sweet one?”
“It…hurts…” Philomena pants. “It feels…wrong…”
Zenobia looked down at her daughter’s large belly and gently placed her hands on it. She could feel the child moving, kicking to be brought into the world. “I can feel it… Nothing is wrong with the little one…she is just in a bit of a hurry here.” She turned to the head midwife. “How far along is she?”
“She is ready to push, my lady,” the midwife said. “And we have been trying to tell her that, but she refuses to listen to us.”
Zenobia looked to her daughter. “Mena, listen to the midwives. They know what they are saying.”
Two women lifted Philomena’s legs, and spread them for Zenobia to look between. A head of black hair was clearly growing into visibility, and how fast it was coming told her that this child was ready to be born at any moment. She nodded to the two women to hold Philomena while she looked into her daughter’s eyes.
“Mena, it’s time,” Zenobia said. “Do not struggle, do not fret. You made this child with love; let it be born with love. Your body knows what to do; listen to it, my little one.”
Philomena panted and groaned, but slowly, she could feel it. Her body was opening; her womb was moving as she felt her child move. In her mind, she pictured Abeeku at her side, holding her hand, smiling at her, telling her to bring their child into this bright, new world. Tucking in her chin, she closed her eyes and held her breath before she began to push.
Her body responded, and she felt her child move within her birth canal. She stopped pushing a moment to catch her breath before she began again, and this time, her work bore fruit. In a tumbling rush of blood and water, a squalling newborn entered into the world. The cord was quickly cut and the babe was quickly cleaned, before being handed to Zenobia, who looked the child over.
“A beautiful little girl,” Zenobia said, smiling at her daughter. “A princess.”
“A girl…” Philomena said smiling. “Let me see her.”
The baby princess was passed to her mother and Philomena looked her over. She had Abeeku’s nose, the indent of his chin, yet she could see herself in her face. She had her eyes, her dimples, and her temper; the little one was squalling loud enough to wake the gods.
“What will you name her?” Zenobia asked.
“Nkechi,” Philomena answered, looking into her daughter’s eyes. “It means gift of the gods…”
*******
Darius stood outside of Philomena’s chambers, waiting with the other nobles and servants. When a midwife stepped outside, she was flooded with questions and she announced proudly that the kingdom had been blessed with a newborn princess. People then turned to Darius and clapped their hands, congratulating him on the birth of his new daughter.
At first, this confused Darius, and then he remembered that he must act as if this was his daughter. Legally, this new child was his, and thus, he forced a smile on his face and walked into the chambers where Philomena was.
They were cleaned and smelled of lavender. The servants were putting up the bloody sheets, and Philomena lay on a new bed, cuddling the newborn in her arms. When she sensed him enter, she lifted her head and looked at him. Darius was nervous, and cleared his voice several times.
“H…How was the birth?” he asked.
“It was alright,” she said back with a shrug. “I am a bit tired…but I can’t put her down.”
“What did you name it?” he asked, then corrected himself quickly. “I…I mean her! What did you name her?”
He blushed, and strangely, she found it cute, so she laughed softly.
“I have named her Nkechi,” she answered. “It means blessing of the gods. You can approach, don’t be afraid. She won’t grow teeth for a couple of years.”
Slowly, he approached the bed and looked at the newborn. She had a headful of dark curls, and though she was asleep, he could tell she was going to grow into a very beautiful young woman when she got older.
“I…I know Abeeku would be proud of you,” he said slowly.
“Thank you,” she said. “Darius…I know that we haven’t started on the right foot…but for the sake of my daughter and my kingdom…I’d like to try. I can’t say that I’ll forgive you easily, nor am I ready to, but for the sake of my child and kingdom…I’d like to try.”
He nodded and smiled softly. “T…Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“Just don’t make me regret it,” she said, before turning back to her child.
“I promise you I won’t,” he swore. “But I must tell you something. I must return to Persia to get my matters in order, but I will come back.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“A year or two,” he said. “But I will send you letters every day. I need to get Persia back under my control, and I can’t do that here.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
Gently, he reached down and boldly gripped her hand before bringing it to his lips in a soft kiss. He then looked to the newborn child one last time before he stood, bowed and left the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
The shrieks of Nkechi filled the halls as she sprinted down the white marble floor. Her nursemaids rushed behind her, trying to stop the young princess from hurting herself, but she never seemed to listen. The now four-year-old little girl was burs
ting with energy, much like her sires.
The little girl panted softly as she giggled, her long black curls flying in this wonderful game of cat and mouse. She knew that she was going to be in big trouble if her mother found out, but she didn’t care; she moved to cause trouble.
She shrieked in surprise as her bare feet slid across a wet section of tile. Her little arms flapped like a bird’s wings as she reached for anything to stop her from sliding. She finally came to a stop when she crashed into a pile of linen that was piled and waiting to be cleaned. Her nursemaids rushed forth, looking through the linen to find the little one as they were afraid what would happen to them if Philomena found out.
Nkechi giggled softly and crawled under the linen and poked her head out, watching her nursemaids search in vain. She was always a troublemaker.
The sounds of trumpets made everyone jump and then scramble to make themselves presentable. Nkechi yelped as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her from under the linen before she found herself looking into the very angry face of her head nursemaid. She was going to get a harsh scolding, she knew it, but she didn’t care; she always was let loose to do whatever she wished.
Guards appeared in uniform order before they parted and Philomena appeared. Everyone dropped to their knees, but only Nkechi and her head nursemaid stood; yet when Philomena approached, the woman bowed her head briefly in respect.
“Has my daughter been giving you all trouble?” Philomena asked the older woman.
“A bit, Your Highness…” the nursemaid said, glancing down at Nkechi. “But I will train her to be a proper young lady.”
“Being a proper young lady is in the eye of the beholder,” Philomena said before she turned to her daughter and smiled. “Hello, Nkechi.”