Read Nobody's Princess Online

Authors: Esther Friesner

Tags: #Adventure stories, #Mythology; Greek, #Social Issues, #Girls & Women, #Social Science, #Action & Adventure, #Adventure and adventurers, #Juvenile Fiction, #Legends; Myths; Fables, #Fantasy & Magic, #General, #Greek & Roman, #Gender Studies, #Mediterranean Region - History - To 476, #Sex role, #Historical, #Helen of Troy (Greek mythology), #Mediterranean Region, #Ancient Civilizations

Nobody's Princess

CONTENTS

Title Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Map

Prologue

PART I: SPARTA

1          A Sacrifice to Artemis

2          A Girl’s Place

3          Lessons

4          Clytemnestra’s Secret

5          My Mother’s Past

6          News from Mykenae

PART II: MYKENAE

7          Thyestes’s Snare

PART III: CALYDON

8          The Huntress

9          Atalanta’s Story

10          The Boar Comes

11          The Great Hunt

PART IV: DELPHI

12          An Unexpected Harbor

13          Encounter in Delphi

14          Visions from the Gods

15          The Plotters and the Plan

16          The Pythia Has Spoken

Something About Helen

About the Author

Preview of Nobody’s Prize

Praise for Nobody’s Princess

Copyright

This book is dedicated to the memory of
Elissa Nicole Sullivan.
Through her life, she gave an eternal gift of love,
Through her art, an enduring legacy of beauty.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe thanks to many people for their part in

helping make this book a reality.

To Tamora Pierce and Josepha Sherman, whose

Young Warriors
anthology gave Helen her start.

To Elizabeth Moon, whose knowledge of all

things equine gave Helen the reins.

To my editor, Mallory Loehr, and my agent,

Russell Galen, whose ongoing support and

assistance have been invaluable.

Thank you all so much!

PROLOGUE

When I was four years old, my father, King Tyndareus of Sparta, dedicated a shrine to his favorite goddess, Aphrodite. He ordered it built on one of the rooftops of our palace because he said the queen of love and beauty was worshipped best under the beauty of an open sky. You could reach the holy place only by climbing an outside stairway, each step covered with painted tiles that told stories from the life of the goddess.

Most of the gods were born in the usual way, but not Aphrodite. She was never a baby, never a child, and she never had to put up with any of the problems of growing up. The goddess was born full-grown from the waves of the Middle Sea when the god Kronos spilled the blood of his father, Uranus, over the sea foam. I never did understand why
bloodshed
would give birth to a goddess of love and beauty, but that’s the way I was told it happened: Aphrodite sprang to life out of the waves, and as soon as the world saw her, every living thing fell in love with her beauty. The winds themselves fought for the honor of carrying her to shore.

Now
that
I could understand. It was the part of the story I liked best. Even as a very young child I thought it would be a wonderful thing to be able to fly over the waves, free as a seabird, seeing new lands and having grand adventures. I didn’t care if I grew up to be as beautiful as the goddess, as long as I could be just as free.

The shrine itself was a simple thing: A wooden ark sheltered the painted clay image of the goddess, an image as big as a two-year-old child. I was playing in the shadow of my father’s throne on the day he received it from the Cretan artist who also made the tiles to adorn the stairs. At first I thought it was a wonderful doll and that it would be mine. I ran forward, threw my arms around Aphrodite’s neck, and gave her such an enthusiastic kiss that my lips marked the paint on her cheek.

I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong, and so I was confused when I looked up and saw expressions of shock on the faces of almost every grown-up around me. Some of them were whispering to each other and scowling at me. I began to feel afraid, until I heard my father laugh and say, “The child is wiser than all of us. My little Helen has hit on the perfect tribute for Aphrodite! What better welcome for the goddess of love than a kiss?” And he ordered the servants to make me a new dress for the dedication ceremony in three days’ time.

On the dedication day, my nurse, Ione, held me and my twin sister, Clytemnestra, by the hands as we watched our father and mother perform the welcoming rites for the goddess. Our brothers, the twins Castor and Polydeuces, were nine years old, so they were given the honor of holding the garlands of fragrant springtime flowers that the king and queen would place at Aphrodite’s feet. The boys didn’t seem to be enjoying the privilege. The two of them fidgeted as if they’d caught fleas from one of Father’s hunting hounds.

Though my parents and we royal children were the only ones entitled to come before the goddess in her new home, the nearby rooftops were crowded with the nobles of Sparta, all of them eager to have a good view. How splendid the men looked with their long hair curled and oiled, the women in their finest gowns, their blue and scarlet tiered skirts jingling with gold charms! The sunlight was striped with the rising smoke of precious incense brought from across the Middle Sea. The melody of flutes and Egyptian harps over the beat of little hand drums filled the air.

The music made me want to dance, so I did, pulling my hand out of Ione’s grasp. She smiled. “What a clever child, wanting to offer the goddess such a lovely dance as a gift! But not just yet, dear one. This isn’t the right time; you’re interrupting the dedication ceremony. Wait until it’s finished, like a good girl.”

As Ione gently took my hand again, my parents called out to welcome Aphrodite-of-the-Foam. They were dressed in their finest robes and their best jewels, all to pay reverence to the queen of love and beauty. The image of the goddess was a marvel, but that day I saw something that I thought was even more marvelous.

“Look, Ione!” I cried. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Hush, child,” Ione said. “Everyone knows that the goddess is—”


Not
the goddess—
her.
” I pointed at my mother, Leda, with my free hand. “Mama. She’s
much
more beautiful than the goddess.” My voice carried loud and clear across the rooftop.

I no sooner spoke my mind for all to hear than the air cracked with the sound of Ione slapping my face. I was stunned. She’d never raised her hand to me until that moment. I hadn’t known that the same hand that stroked my hair or tenderly touched my brow when I was sick could hurt so much. Before I could cry out, she swept me off my feet and whisked me away from the ceremonies. Poor Clytemnestra was left behind.

Our nurse had been a farmer’s wife, but the other servants whispered that ever since she’d been brought to the royal palace, she acted as if she’d been born there. Maybe so, but she didn’t act at all regal or haughty as she raced down the tower steps, carrying me over one shoulder like a bundle of old clothes. She didn’t slow down until we reached the deserted central courtyard of the palace, where flowers bloomed around a white stone well. Here she set me on my feet and shook me roughly by the shoulders.

“Are you crazy? To say such things where the goddess can hear you!” she hissed in my face. “You’ll bring a curse down on all of us.”

My cheek hurt, but that didn’t bother me as much as the feeling of having the ground yanked out from under me. I was totally bewildered. Ione hadn’t acted like this when my dancing interrupted the welcoming rites for Aphrodite. Why had a few words turned everything upside down? One moment she’d been praising me, smiling at me. Now her smile was gone, vanished behind a mask of anger and fear.

Ione’s afraid because of something
I
said?
I gazed at her, astonished. She looked even more terrified than when Zeus made the sky blaze and roar with wild thunderstorms. I’d never imagined that I had that kind of power over grown-ups.
They
were always the ones who could do whatever they wanted, make all the choices, all the decisions about their lives and mine. Up until that moment, if someone had asked me the difference between gods and grown-ups, I’d have said,
What difference?

Suddenly, it wasn’t so.
Something
I
said made a grown-up afraid?
I
can do that?
What a wonderful, terrible, dangerous thing for a little girl to learn!

“No one is more beautiful than a goddess!” Ione told me urgently. Her face was stiff with fear. “No one, man or woman, is the equal of the gods. If they hear anyone even
hinting
that an ordinary person outshines the immortals, dreadful things happen! Do you want your mother to
die
because you said something stupid?”

I stared Ione in the face and stood up tall, the way I’d just seen my mother do when she called on Aphrodite. “Aphrodite wouldn’t do anything so mean,” I said, very sure of myself. “Mama and Papa just gave the goddess lots and lots of beautiful presents and a nice, new place to stay here with us.
That
means they’re her hosts, and you taught me that guests and hosts mustn’t hurt each other, not
ever.
Do you think the goddess would do something so
wrong,
Ione?”

“Oh, child, what’s going to become of you if you keep saying such things? The gods don’t have to worry about what’s right and wrong for mortals!” she exclaimed.

“Can’t they do
anything
wrong?” I asked.

“I—I don’t know—I don’t think so.” My nurse squirmed as if her own words were giving her a bellyache.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because—because they can do anything they like. They’re the gods.” She acted as if that explained everything.

“Then why should we give them presents if it won’t make them nicer to us?” I wanted to know. “They’re only going to do whatever they want anyway.”

I waited patiently for my nurse’s answer, but the poor woman just stood there with her mouth hanging open. At last I said, “I think you’re wrong about the gods, Ione. They’re
much
nicer than you say, especially Aphrodite. She has to be nice. She’s the goddess of love! She’d never hurt Mama, no matter
what
I say, because Mama’s the queen and she gives the best presents, and if anything happens to her, no more presents for Aphrodite, right? And the goddess doesn’t want
that.
Now do you understand?”

Satisfied, I gave my still-bewildered nurse a big kiss on the cheek and marched straight back up the stairs to the shrine. I heard her come scrambling after me, but I didn’t feel the need to turn around to be sure she was there. Even if I was still too young to have explored every part of our big, rambling palace, I knew that I wouldn’t get lost, because now Aphrodite was with me. I was convinced that I’d pleased her with my kiss, and my dance, and the way I’d defended her to Ione. I imagined that I could feel her hands on my shoulders, helping me up the stairs. Just believing that she was near, watching over me, lifted up my heart and filled it with happiness.

The sun beat brightly on the tiles when I came back out onto the rooftop, and the wind carried the scent of mountain pine. The musicians were playing something light and joyous, and everyone smiled when I stood in the presence of the goddess and once more began to dance.

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