The Princess of Prophecy

by Aria Cunningham

  He was worked up now, stationary but with a simmering rage mounting inside. Paris had no trouble imagining Scylax at the head of army. He would be a fearsome foe.

  "Self-indulgent royals bloated on their vanity and pride," he continued on in a rage. "They rule the world, taking whatever they want, destroying whomever they want, and all the while the innocent suffer. One day, they will squeeze too hard, and their precious reign will crumble in their fingers. I know that as surely as I know the sun will rise each morning."

  He turned to Paris, his ire vanishing. "Just as I know that you are not one of them. There are few good people in this world, Trojan. I could not live with myself if I culled their numbers." He appeared surprised by his own words. "You are... unique."

  Paris was speechless. Meshwesh, sell-sword, mercenary, cutthroat—he had been raised to hate these men. They were painted as less than human, a tool warlords utilized to swell their numbers.

  Scylax, however, was no thoughtless animal. He was a man, no different than Paris. And he spoke true. In all of his diplomatic travels, the number of righteous rulers Paris encountered were few. He was grateful for his outcast status then, and the ill company it spared him. How many nights had he spent in conversation with Glaucus where Scylax' words might as well have been his own?

  "I want to believe you," Paris hesitated, the knife still secure in his hand, "but I just don't trust you."

  "Then you are learning," Scylax snorted. "I do not ask for your trust. You are down a man, and another is too wounded to wield a sword. Let me help you out of Egypt." He offered his hand to Paris, placing himself within striking range of Iamus' blade. "Please, don't make my sacrifice count for nothing."

  Paris looked to Helen. She still clung to Iamus, but was listening to them intently, absorbing every word. He wanted her input. He had come to trust her insight on reading a man's intent. When she nodded, he finally let the last bit of tension go.

  "To the Delta and no farther?"

  "And no farther," Scylax agreed.

  He clasped the man's arm, and they set about to leave the capital.

  The journey through the palace passed in a daze for Helen. They had traveled no more than a hundred feet before pockets of battle broke out before them. Soldier fought soldier, and the halls ran red.

  Paris and Scylax were both skilled in keeping them from sight. They ducked into alcoves, flattened against walls, and hid behind pillars until the melee passed.

  She saw Setnakhte from a distance once. He pressed back a group of warriors twice the size of his own, calling to his men to rally again. And then he was gone.

  They did not leave by the front gates, opting for the royal stables instead. It was there that Helen said her last goodbye to the foreign land, a place rife with conflict and yet beauty as well. As she mounted her horse, she gazed one last time into the palace, a distant figure catching her eye.

  Nefertari stood at the far end of the corridor. She watched as their horses filed out of the yard, one hand placed over her heart, the other lifted high in farewell.

  Helen mimicked the gesture, hoping the queen understood how much her kindness meant to her. She prayed the regal monarch would see better days, but some part of Helen knew that was a feeble wish.

  Heliopolis itself was completely ignorant of the troubles in the palace. Several shops flew the black flag, mourning their king, but no soldiers marched the streets. The only smoke that filled the air was from the palace.

  They reached the harbor with little fuss. A ship awaited them there, as well as Glaucus and Aethra, just like Meryatum promised. They casted off immediately, the Egyptian seamen working the sails to capture as much speed as possible.

  Helen sat at the stern watching Heliopolis disappear as they sailed down the Nile. She had come to this city a naive princess in awe of its ageless beauty. Was it prophetic that she left it in flames? If Agamemnon and her sister's fury followed her to Heliopolis, would it not also follow her to Troy? Would there be others, like Twosret, who hid their duplicitous natures behind smiles and well-wishes? Would the next hidden dagger find its mark? She tightened her shawl around her head and steeled her nerves, her fingers twisting Nefertari's gift around her wrist.

  Let them come, Helen vowed silently to herself. This time when they do, I'll be ready for them.

  Chapter 39

  Parting Ways

  IAMUS' FUNERAL PYRE lit up the delta marshland, its orange flames battling the dark shadows surrounding the smugglers' camp that the Trojans now occupied. Paris had reclaimed his ship at Heracleion with little fuss, only allowing the crew to stop in the security of full night. Tonight, they paid homage to their fallen mate, the crew lifting their voice in song to the memory of the royal guard.

  Paris stood beside Glaucus watching the flames crackle against the sky, as though Iamus' spirit danced one last jig. Glaucus was pale about the cheeks, but hale, as though a poisoned arrow were no worse than a bad case of gout. Paris suspected he hid the true extent of his pain, but he had seen his old friend through worse injury, and he was beginning to believe what the oarsmen whispered, that the man was indestructible.

  Scylax stepped quietly beside them.

  "I'll see you for the announcement," Glaucus grunted and excused himself. The captain and mercenary had spoken little on the voyage from Heliopolis, the confession that the poisoned arrow was his, souring what little camaraderie Glaucus felt for the sell-sword. It didn't help that Scylax was entirely unapologetic about the act, either.

  "Are you sure this is what you want?" Paris spied the knapsack on the man's shoulder. Tonight they would part, Scylax off to face the queen and her injustice.

  "I will get my wife back, or see those who harmed her pay." There was a finality in his tone that left Paris with no doubts that it would be done. "It is time I remember who my real enemies are."

  Paris nodded, knowing better than to wish the man "good speed". He watched the flames climb higher into the night, devouring itself in its urgent appetite. He had a sudden flash of his vision in the temple. Death, and more death. It seemed an inevitable future, yet some part of him wished there was another way.

  "Don't fall back to it, Scylax."

  The sell-sword arched a brow, studying Paris with a puzzled expression.

  "Be better than what they say of you. Don't prove them right."

  Scylax fidgeted, shifting uncomfortably. "I am what I am." He sighed with a bit of sadness. "I am not built for a quiet life."

  "Then use your skills for something better. It's not too late for you."

  "Fight for a cause?" Scylax laughed, he seemed genuinely amused by that idea. "My last one didn't fare so well."

  "Well then find another," Paris pressed. "A better one." He did not know why he challenged the man, only that it felt important. Like Meryatum's last words to him professed, the world was truly what its human caretakers made of it, and Paris wanted it to be good.

  Scylax studied him with an admiring look, one laced with surprise. He laughed again. "Let me know when you find one, Trojan. I might just join you." He held out his arm in farewell, and Paris clasped it. "We'll meet again," he spoke with utter surety. He took two steps into the night and was gone, quiet as the black shadows he favored.

  Paris remained outside the gathering for a while, listening to the sounds of the marsh blend with the Trojan dirge. For a moment, everything was peaceful, and he could forget all the things that haunted him. When the song tapered off, he turned to the ship where Helen awaited him.

  She was a vision all in white. Aethra insisted the filth from their escape be removed before their announcement, and like any good task-mistress, Paris, too, fell under her scrub brush. It was worth the effort. The matron spent hours with Helen, fixing her charge into a beauty all men would adore.

  "Are you ready?" He took Helen's arm.

  "Yes." A firm resolve sparkled in her deep blue eyes. He led her before the pyre to where Glaucus stood, finishing his eulogy for the departed.

 
"Let no man say Iamus did not reclaim his honor. He loved his prince, and in the end, he proved it with his life. His was a good death." Glaucus stepped back as the Trojan guards slammed spear against shield in solid agreement. When the thumping died off, Paris stepped forward.

  He stood before the host of one hundred men, the brave soldiers who had followed him through many journeys. Over the past few years they had replaced the family he was born to, caring for him as those esteemed nobles never would. He owed them his life and more. "Iamus died for me, a debt I cannot repay." He lifted his voice, humbled by that loyalty. "Each of you has risked the same, and I believe it is time you know why."

  The crew stirred. It was unusual for Paris to share the finer details of his missions. It was their job to obey without question.

  "We carry urgent news to Troy." He cleared his throat, making sure they could hear him even in the far back. "War is brewing in the West. Agamemnon craves an empire, and to achieve that, he will try to plunder the riches of Troy." Helen squeezed his arm, giving her gentle encouragement to continue on. "The king must be warned. If any of us should fall, the last among us must carry this news to him."

  This caused a ripple of concern amongst his men, but when the muttering died off, they beat their shields. Trojan solidarity. Stronger than iron. He waved them down, grateful for their support.

  "But it is not only dire news and warnings we transport to Troy." He pulled Helen before him. "Our hallowed decks carry a great treasure."

  She turned to him, her smile more dazzling than a thousand stars. Mighty Aphrodite, how did a lost soul like him win her heart?

  "Our stop in Egypt was not without purpose. You are the first of our countrymen to greet her. Bid your new princess welcome. My wife, Princess Helen of Troy."

  The camp erupted into cheers, and he lost himself in her eyes. "My wife." He repeated quietly to her, scarcely believing it was real.

  "My husband," she whispered back and then kissed him. Whatever came next, they could weather, so long as they had each other.

  And so long as there was life in his body, he was never letting her go.

  EPILOGUE

  THE WINDS OF WAR

  A CHILL wind whipped the sails of the Grecian galley as it set sail from Mycenae's port. Clytemnestra stood at the bow, letting the western zephyrs toss her hair. Every breath felt like the gentle caress of a lover's hand, for every breath brought her closer to Helen.

  Menelaus barked a command to his sailors to trim the sails. He seemed in his element in the brewing tempest, his raw power waiting to be unleashed.

  Clytemnestra sneered. She was no idiot. Agamemnon thought himself clever, sending his little brother to Troy. Her husband never sent his muzzled dog without purpose. If he meant to provoke a war, so be it. If she was lucky, he'd get himself killed in the effort.

  Her husband was a fool, however, if he thought Menelaus commanded this envoy. The court was her realm, and she would not be leaving Troy empty-handed. Helen was coming home, whether she wanted to leave the Golden City or not.

  Nestra jutted her jaw out, a determined line dominating her visage. She was grateful for the information Astyanassa had elicited from the Trojan guard. A man born under a dark omen would have enemies, possibly many.

  And the enemy of my enemy will prove a powerful ally.

  She let that factor fill her with confidence. Her weapons were not those of bronze, but something far more powerful. She had plans for that detestable prince, plans he would never be able to counter.

  Helen is coming home. It became a mantra, that promise drilling over and over again into Nestra's brain. She IS coming home.

  The desperate knot in Clytemnestra's heart would afford no other outcome, and once she was reunited with her twin, everything would go back to the way it was.

  Forever.

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  In writing this series, my goal was to take a holistic approach in retelling the Trojan War—to incorporate historical data, cutting-edge archaeological research, and classical sources like Homer and Virgil. By blending those elements with an understanding of human nature, I plan to tell the personal story of the people who lived so long ago, the people who inspired the myths. In Heroes of the Trojan War, the Gods don't walk the earth, but the people who prayed to them do. Hopefully, my readers will experience the ancient world from a grounded, fact-influenced perspective that closely reflects the experience of our Bronze Age ancestors.

  Homer's "Illiad" was more than mythology. It was a recanting, albeit fantastical, of an actual historical event. Since no piece of history stands in isolation, to fully depict the significance of the Trojan War, it is crucial to explore the greater, international world of the Late Bronze Age—not just Mycenae and Homer's "Grecified" version of Troy. I had to consider the influence of the other "Super Powers" of that time, among which Egypt was certainly a major player.

  Fortunately, for the purposes of this novel, more of Egyptian culture has been preserved than possibly any other ancient society. By studying Egyptian history, I learned that in 1200 BC, the entire world—not just Greece and Troy—was on the brink of war. Rameses II, whom biblical lore often paints as the weak Pharaoh who unwilling set free his Hebrew slaves, was in fact one of the greatest rulers of Egypt. His wars of conquest capped several hundred years of Egyptian domination into the Near East. With his death, came a vacuum of power... where mercenaries, drought, famine, and civil war wrecked havoc in Egypt, ultimately ending the powerful 18th Dynasty—a period of time that coincides with the Grecian invasion at Troy.

  It should not be surprising, then, that the people of the Nile left us their own version of the Trojan War, of the impact of the "Egyptian Aphrodite" who visited their shores, and of Egypt's role in that international incident. Herodotus, the first Western historian who lived circa 600 BC (some 200 years after Homer), discovered those tales, and they told a different version of Helen and Paris' fateful journey, one that deeply conflicts the mythology told by the Greeks.

  Herodotus' accounts have provided historians with invaluable first-hand information about ancient society, and he is one source of many that confirms how the consequences of the Trojan War were far-reaching. The impact of massive warfare, the transfer of power, and the destabilization of established order had ripple effects across the civilized world—much like it does today. Those factors have greatly inspired this series and The Princess of Prophecy, in particular. Troy and Greece were part of a larger world. This book reflects how the underlying factors that caused their epic clash did not originate nor end with them.

  As I continue to write the series, I look forward to highlighting other ancient cultures: of the nomadic Israelite clans across Canaan, of the fearsome warriors of the Hittite Empire, of the rebel coalition members of the Anatolian Assuwa League, and—of course—of the mysterious Sea Peoples, whose war-path unmade the ancient world. The Golden Era of Grecian Heroes has a place amongst a larger story, and I am excited to explore it. Hopefully, with passionate characters and intense drama, this series will shed an intimate light on one of the most pivotal moments in human history.

  I am indebted to my many mentors and professors at Berkeley, to my time excavating at Tel Dor—an actual settlement for people displaced by the Trojan War—and the vast network of scholarly work available for public review. In particular, I'd like to highlight the work of Eric H. Cline, whose publications have been tremendously insightful, and to Vangelis Pantazis, who has dared to challenge assumptions held by the academic community. For any budding historians, I highly recommend checking out the publications at academia.edu.

  Thank you for your interest, and I hope you enjoy the book!

  PHOTO BY: JEFF LORCH

  ABOUT ARIA

  Inspired at an early age by the adventures of Indiana Jones, Aria Cunningham studied marine archaeology at UC Berkeley.In 2004, she set forth to create her own adventures and helped excavate a Roman palace from 200 AD at Tel Dor, Israel.

  Continuing her old wor
ld education, she travelled the expansive fjords of Norway, castle hopped from Wales to the Rhineland, and explored the funeral complexes along the Egyptian Nile. She is an avid scuba diver who has navigated shipwrecks on the ocean floor, the immense kelp forests off the Channel Islands, and the legendary Cenote caverns of the Yucatan.

  Aria has a Master's degree in the Cinematic Arts from USC and currently lives off the coast of Southern California.

  See how the epic began:

  Book one: The Princess of Sparta

  Heroes of the Trojan War, Vol. I

  "The Princess of Sparta is the perfect blend of history, romance, and action giving this book a broader reach with readers. The characters come alive in this forlorn world of long ago as they share their joy, pain, and struggles. Once you pick this book up, there's no turning back or putting it down!"

  -Portland Book Review

  Helen of Troy's humble story began as a Princess of Sparta; honorable, loyal, with promise to become a powerful queen. Given in marriage to Menelaus of Mycenae, an abusive husband who neither wants nor needs her, she clings to a prophecy made to her about a great destiny, and even greater love.

  That destiny awaits her in Paris, a noble prince of Troy, whose reputation for fairness and fortitude precedes him as an Ambassador. Unjustly cursed at birth by a dark omen claiming he will cause the destruction of Troy, Paris is an object of ridicule amongst the Trojan nobility. He is a man who has never known love.

  Until the day the Fates intervene and Paris travels to Mycenae as an Ambassador of Troy. He meets Helen, and the bond of two souls linked by a common destiny is irresistible. He is drawn to the Spartan princess, and she to him. But with relations between their kingdoms under pressure, can the star-crossed lovers risk dishonor and war simply to follow their hearts?