The Hunt (1/4)

As of Wednesday, my dissertation is receiving (what I hope will be) final review by my committee, which means I've been able to take a break the past couple of days. Naturally, the first thing I wanted to do was write. About a year ago, I made a bargain with myself that I wouldn't write any more fiction until my dissertation was thoroughly and totally done. I haven't stuck to that deal 100%, but its been harder to maintain than a diet.

A long time ago I decided I wanted to write a novel about the Greek goddess, Nemesis, that would eventually tie into the book I wrote about Anne Bonny. That idea has changed and evolved a lot since I first got into it. Originally it was going to take place in the present day, but then I decided it was better to go back to her early days - about 1200 BC. Then I had an idea that Nemesis should be an artificial lifeform created on Olympus by extremely advanced science (like the replicants in Bladerunner), but I've rolled that back to be a bit more ambiguous. And originally Nemesis was going to be the sole focus of the book, but I've since decided to have the book split between her and Odysseus, the two of them working together in Athena's service.

The following 'chunk' of writing takes place at Peleus and Thetis's wedding anniversary celebration in Thessaly. For the first time in hundreds of years, the gods (well, Zeus) have decided that they should actually show up for a royal soiree in person, basically coopting the occasion to entertain themselves. Because Ancient Greece's ultimate movers-and-shakers have RSVPed, people from throughout Greece and beyond drop what they are doing to attend. With all of the royal families showing up in one place at one time, it also becomes an opportunity to negotiate treaties, trade deals, and marriages. Perhaps the most important event of the century, Athena intends to use the situation to further her own mysterious agenda. 

But while Athena is moving her pieces around the board, those pieces are having their lives turned upside down by the involvement of the gods. One of the eligible bachelorettes in attendance is Helen of Sparta (Nemesis's biological daughter, though Nemesis doesn't know that), a charismatic and beautiful woman who potentially provides a path to the Spartan throne. Helen is interested primarily in her adopted brother Menelaus, and finds the attention of the other 30+ single men more than a bit undesirable. Unfortunately, they have money to throw at her father, and Menelaus doesn't.

Aphrodite, having a grudge against Helen's father and an incessant need to be the alpha female at any occasion, takes offense at the suitors' attention to Helen and decides to create some chaos. The goddess of 'love' sets up a contest, so that the suitors can prove their worth, so that Helen won't simply be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Unfortunately, this effectively objectifies Helen as a prize to be handed out at the end, which is really no improvement over being sold. To make matters even worse, Aphrodite pressures Ares and Apollo to participate in the contest, making everything messier. 

Misadventures ensue as Athena furthers her own agenda, Ares and Apollo deliberately try to lose to their mortal competitors, Menelaus tries to win Helen, Odysseus tries to win Helen's cousin, Penelope (by competing for Helen), and Paris and Achilles get up to shenanigans like the young adolescent boys that they are. And with all that comes more than a little foreshadowing for anyone who's read the Iliad. 

Part 1 of 4

The time for Aphrodite’s final challenge had arrived. The intention had been to add up all of the suitors’ scores at the end of the five challenges to determine the final winner, and the man who would be Princess Helen’s husband (and potentially King of Sparta), but going into the final challenge – a hunt organized by the goddess, Artemis – there were only a handful of real contenders. Most of the men had stayed in the game only because it was expected of them, or because they were having fun. Ironically, few of the real contenders were serious about winning.

The most determined of the lot was the Mycenaen prince, Menelaus. He and his brother, Agamemnon, had grown up in exile in Sparta, raised by Helen’s parents. He and Helen seemed to share a genuine connection – Menelaus was the only man Helen called a friend – but having nothing to his name except his name itself, no one had taken him seriously as a contender for Helen’s hand before the contest. Once Helen’s courtship became a sporting event, rather than an auction, Menelaus had seized the opportunity to compete on a level playing field, and had fought aggressively to win.

The brothers from Salamis, Ajax and Teucer, had each performed well enough in their own way to stay in the competition. Teucer’s marksmanship was second only to Apollo himself, and Ajax’s only challenger on the wrestling mat had been Ares. Diomedes of Argos, highly skilled at nearly everything, had not won any of the trials but like Menelaus he had placed highly enough that his final score might give him the overall win.

Odysseus had done well enough to stay in the competition, but he had never intended to win. His interest was in his longtime friend, Penelope, Helen’s cousin. Odysseus’s mentor, Athena, had convinced him that – as future King of Ithaca – he needed to make a showing to earn the friendship and respect of the other future rulers of Greece. She guaranteed the opportunity would ultimately lead to gaining Penelope’s hand in marriage, and had given Odysseus a challenge – to ensure that Menelaus won Helen’s hand.

Achilles – son of the event's hosts - and Paris of Troy, younger than any of the suitors by several years, had only joined the competition as a joke. Paris was starry-eyed and stammering whenever he was around Helen, and his pining had made him the target of the other suitors’ mockery. Achilles had become fast friends with Paris in the past few weeks, though, and decided to join the event to humiliate the older, but still less capable men, who had insulted his friend.  Paris had then decided to participate as well, hopeful he’d have a shot at Helen. Achilles had excelled at everything, despite Menelaus’s brother, Agamemnon, sabotaging him at every turn. Paris had – through a combination of luck and help – managed to stay in the race.

The Olympian princes, Apollo and Ares, had been cajoled into competing by Aphrodite, but neither of the gods was interested in being King of Sparta. Odysseus had the distinct impression Helen was not Apollo’s preferred ‘type’; the god had managed to creatively sabotage himself with most of the challenges, even managing to disqualify himself on the archery challenge. Apollo stuck with the competition, but it seemed mostly to be because he was enjoying his time mingling with the mortals.

Ares had also underperformed in unexpected ways, but had not appeared to do so deliberately. Of all the gods Odysseus had met, the god of war had differed the most from Odysseus’s expectations. Going into this, the final challenge, Ares had dropped out of the race despite Aphrodite’s objections; while a savage butcher on the battlefield, Ares seemed to revile hunting as a hobby, saying there was "a difference between warfare and murder." Artemis had tried to convince him this hunt would be different, lamenting that they had never really bonded as siblings, but Ares had gone off to play with Peleus’s dogs.

All of the gods were so different from one another that Odysseus found it hard to believe they were family. Even the twins, Artemis and Apollo, were (appropriately) as different as night and day. Apollo was dark skinned with golden hair, clean cut and fashionable. Artemis was fair-skinned with raven-black hair, dressed simply and sloppily. Had her Olympian heritage not been obvious from her physical stature and intimidating aura, their hosts would likely have turned her away as a vagrant. Apollo was surprisingly affable; despite his status and power, he’d been happy to play his lyre for the mortals and discuss any number of topics with Odysseus, who had been absorbing everything Apollo said like a sponge. By comparison, Artemis seemed socially awkward and distant. To the humans she was cold as moonlight, and to her brother she was openly antagonistic. Odysseus had inferred, from something Athena said, that Apollo had deeply hurt his twin sister at some point, and the wounds had never truly healed. Odysseus even suspected that Apollo’s participation in Artemis’s great hunt might have been an attempt to mend their broken relationship.

Artemis now stood before the suitors with Aphrodite and Helen, ready to begin her hunt. Odysseus knew Artemis had never been close to Aphrodite - the virgin huntress was apparently demisexual, a concept Aphrodite held in contempt - but the whole competition had been Aphrodite’s idea, so Artemis had endured Aphrodite's left handed complements and put downs with grace. Helen looked as eager for it all to be over as she had the first day they had all arrived in Thessaly. The Spartan princess had never been comfortable with the attention she received, and her life had been made infinitely worse by Aphrodite’s decision to involve herself in it.

Artemis held up one fist to silence the chatter of the crowd and spoke, “This is the final trial to win Helen’s hand. I have prepared the greatest hunt in five generations. We will travel into the forest to the east and make camp.  We will hunt by the light of the full moon, without horses, dogs, or servants. You will have only your bow, your spear, and your wits to pit against the unforgiving wilderness tonight. Are you men game?”

The suitors nodded and chattered excitedly.

“I said, are you game?!”

“We’re game!” Diomedes shouted, “Let’s do this! Yeah!” The other men cheered.

Odysseus found himself bewildered by his fellows’ heedless enthusiasm. He finally shouted, “What’s the prey to be?”

Artemis beamed, “That, young prince, is a surprise. You’ll learn tonight, when the moon lights the sky.”

Artemis led the way into the forest, but moved so quickly and quietly she disappeared, leaving it to the local boy, Achilles, to guide everyone to their destination – a clearing around a lake that set at the foot of a waterfall. He said it was a beautiful destination, but he’d never encountered any big game like bears or lions there. This excited Diomedes, who was certain they’d be pitted against some exotic creature Artemis had used her connections to bring to Thessaly. He sincerely hoped they’d be hunting some terrible hybrid of beast and man like the infamous Minotaur that supposedly dwelled in Crete, or perhaps some descendant of the chimaera that Bellerophon was said to have slain. 

By midday, Odysseus had decided he was officially unnerved by the forest. Aside from him, only Achilles had noticed that it seemed devoid of animal life, as if everything that lived in the forest had fled before them. Even the flies and mosquitoes that would ordinarily have antagonized them were curiously absent. The only creature Odysseus caught sight of all morning was Athena’s right hand, Adresteia. These days, the shape shifter spent much of her time in the form of great horned owl – few besides Athena knew her true identity – and now she followed the band of suitors silently, gliding between the tree branches. Odysseus couldn’t guess whether he should be comforted by her presence. Adresteia had saved his life more than once, but it was unlikely she’d be following along if Athena hadn’t felt it necessary, which was worrisome. He knew Athena was (for some reason) invested in the outcome of the trials,  so it was likely that Adresteia was just there to observe, but Odysseus didn’t trust Artemis, even though Athena seemed to speak more fondly of her than she did most of her kin.

Reasoning that his job was first, to stay alive, and second, to make sure that Menelaus stayed alive, Odysseus steered the Mycenaen into the company of Apollo and Achilles. The group had scattered over the course of the trek, as men stopped to chat or relieve themselves. At the front of the procession it was the four of them, a Cretan man named Lycomedes, Paris (who wanted to continue hanging out with Achilles), and Paris’s older brother Hector, who wasn’t competing but had been ordered to go by his mother, so that he might look after Paris.

Hector was… interesting to Odysseus. Unlike Odysseus, Ajax, or Achilles, Hector had no known kin among the gods of Greece, Troy, or anywhere else. He had none of the exceptional abilities or talents that would come with such a lineage (Odysseus’s quick wit was often credited to his great grandfather, Hermes), but the Trojan prince still seemed smarter, faster, stronger, and tougher than any mortal man Odysseus had met. Stoic and humble, Hector was the sort of man Odysseus could imagine following into battle, and it seemed regrettable he’d not been born in Greece. As interesting as he was to Odysseus, he seemed far more interesting to Apollo.

“So, if you’re not competing for Princess Helen’s hand,” Apollo said as he walked next to Hector, “I assume you have someone already…?”

Hector nodded, “I’m betrothed to Princess Andromache of Thebes.”

“Betrothed?” Apollo said, “An arranged marriage then. I hope you’ve met her at least.”

Hector laughed, “I’ve met her, and the marriage was arranged on our request. She’s a good woman; even tempered, intelligent, and principled.”

“She sounds lovely,” Apollo said, “How’s the sex?”

Odysseus was walking behind Hector, but could still see him blush bright red.

“We’re only betrothed,” Hector said, “We haven’t married yet.” 

“Oh, I see. Well I’m sure Priam and Thetis’s soiree must have come as a relief to you – an opportunity to travel abroad and mix with the other singles before entering a life of devout monogamy.”

“Well, we’re already monogamous…” Hector said.

“I thought you said you were only betrothed?” Apollo countered, “And not having sex with the woman. How can you be monogamous with someone you aren’t having sex with?”

Hector clearly seemed bewildered; Paris snickered like the juvenile that he was.

“My choice to not have relations with other women is a show of good faith to my future wife,” Hector defended the integrity of their relationship. 

“Just women?” Apollo said, “That still leaves the field quite open, doesn’t it?”

“Pardon?” Hector asked.

Menelaus had been largely quiet so far, hauling along his large bronze shield and spear as if he were going to war. He finally spoke up, “Apollo’s right. Spartans do it all the time. Castor and Pollux had to move into the barracks at age seven. Since then, they’ve had scarcely any time with women that wasn’t supervised. If they didn’t satisfy their needs with the men there, they’d be walking into their future marriages completely clueless.”

“I wouldn’t think relations with a man would prepare you for marriage to a woman,” Lycomedes broke his own silence.

Apollo shrugged, “Most of the skills are transferable.”

Odysseus decided to change the topic, to spare Hector further discomfort, “You and Agamemnon weren’t sent to the barracks?” he asked Menelaus.

“No,” Menelaus clearly seemed unhappy with the situation, “I suppose I should be grateful, everyone says life in the barracks is miserable, but…”

“You don’t like being excluded?” Hector said.

“Aggie and I lost everything when Aegisthus deposed our father. Tyndareus generously took us in, and in many ways treats us like his own sons - but we’re not. And living in the palace with the girls while the other boys trained to fight has been a constant reminder that we are not Spartans.”

“Well, you’re clearly no slouch,” Hector said.

“Tyndareus trained me, personally,” Menelaus said, “And I don’t want to be thought of as some parasite on Helen’s family, so I’ve tried to make him proud.”

Apollo laughed, “Between you and Hector, what am I supposed to do in the company of such noble men? If Odysseus weren’t here I’d feel shamed by your goodness.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Odysseus asked, “I’d like to think I’m a good man.”

“A great man, someday,” Apollo said, “but a good man? I think that will have to be judged on a day-by-day basis.”

The other men laughed. “I’ve only known you for a few weeks,” Lycomedes said, “and even I know that’s true.”

Apollo slapped a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder. It was a gesture that felt awkward with the god being two heads taller than the especially short man, but Apollo said, “Don’t mistake my observation for disapproval. You’re impious and pragmatic. The world needs people like you as much as it needs devoted sons, like Menelaus, and devoted husbands like Hector. Well, eventually devoted husband, right now Hector’s just a big slice of delicious cake reserved for one lucky woman.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t dry out before the wedding night,” Achilles said.

“Eh, I’ve seen Andromache,” Paris said, “Hector’ll be fine so long as he doesn’t overdo the wine.”

Hector shook his head, “You’re killing me kids, you’re killing me.”

Part 2 of 4