The Nomad: Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This is a love story and an adventure, a modern take on The Odyssey, set in a mythological past where all of the world’s pantheons coexist. It is my first full-length novel, that I wrote in high school, circa 1993. 

The Nomad represents a much younger and less experienced Nick Alimonos, but also, a time when I was more passionate, confident, and brash. If you can get past the warts, I think you’ll find plenty to enjoy. Thank You.


 

Chapter 4

Any man who would have said to me those words, would I have taken his life. But I could not bring myself to be angry with the King. Though he now despised me, and would never see me again, I still thought of him as my friend, my only friend. At times, I even wished to call him father, for that is what he would be to me, if he had granted the wish I so deeply desired. But rather than be filled with spite, I turned unto myself and hated what I was. I am a god, worshipped by multitudes, and yet, I would rather wish to be a pauper or a mortal servant. Though I would not live forever, nor dwell among the gods on Mount Olympus, nor seduce so many into my bed—I would have sacrificed everything to be but near her, not as a husband or a lover, but as a servant, one who could enter the palace of the King and not be shunned, if only to see my beloved Seline.

Very slowly did I return to my home. As quickly as I had journeyed to the king’s palace, did I now ride Thunderfoot, at merely a trod. I dirtied my hands in the dust of the white stone, of the mountain that I climbed. When I reached the top of the cliff, I was tired, though it was a thing I had never known before. My muscles sagged and my massive arms lay limp and dead like from my shoulders. My head bowed low, so that, I could dwell only on the earth. For I could not bring myself to look up into the heavens, in fear of seeing that which made me. Lowly was I, lowly to live not upon a towering mountain, but within the dirt, like the worms and the bugs. Finally, I collapsed upon my knees, not in weariness but in prayer. I, then, looked up into the sky, up into the sun, and did cry out and raise my hands unto heaven. And the white clouds did close in and encircle the sun and form an image. I could see a beard as white as snow and two eyes blazing with blinding light. Then, did I cry my father’s name, “ Z O R !! “ And his name was carried out all across the land, through every mountain, off every stone, echoing in the ears of every nymph and god of nature. But, he did not answer me.

Several days passed and I lived atop a boulder in the mountain. I made myself fire and hunted for food. But I did not return to my palace. I did not feel worthy enough to live there.

Then, on one hot day, as I was hiking through the mountains, I heard a scream. At once, I rushed to the sound of the voice. And as I neared closer, I heard that it was the voice of a woman. Then, I began running, running until I heard the voice calling for help directly below me. I looked down over a broken ledge and saw a string of blonde hair blowing in the wind and a pair of delicate hands clinging desperately to the rock.

“Seline!” I called, reaching out my hand. She looked up at me, her fear stricken countenance subsiding to a happy smile. “Dynotus, I knew you would save me!” she said.

“I have not saved you yet, my dear. Reach out your hand so that I may catch it!”

“I can’t! I can’t hold on with one hand!” she screamed back.

I stretched to grab her as best I could, but I could not reach her. Determined to find another way, I yelled, “hold on!”

“Please, hurry! I don’t think I can hold on much longer!”

Desperate, I leaped over the edge of the cliff and caught myself upon the slight protrusions of the rock wall. I then grabbed her by the waist and with all my might, pushed her up over the edge, knowing it would cause my fall. Seline tumbled to safety. I dropped like a stone. When she gained her senses, she looked over and screamed, “Dynotus! NOOOO!!”

Luckily, I landed on a small ledge about fifty feet below. Only my godly might saved me from death. Yet, still, I believed that I had broken a rib. As I lay unable to stand, I saw Seline running and reaching her hands toward me. We embraced, and I found her in my arms again. “Dynotus, why, why didn’t you fly?” she said, and looked at me, confused.

“Fly? I cannot fly,” I replied.

“But. . .but you are a god, are you not?” she asked.

“No, I have told you countless times. I am only a man. I am not even. . . .not even a strong man. Even now, I cannot bear to be without you.”

“Nor can I,” she said.

“You. . .you came to find me?” I asked in amazement.

“The King was cruel and harsh to you. I overheard what things he said. I felt so horrible, but there was no way that I could convince him that your feelings for me were true. I even showed him the letter that you wrote to me, but he thought nothing of it and tore it up!”

“You heard what he said of me? Than you must think of me as an animal.”

“No, no, I do not. I don’t care what you did or have done in your past. What matters is that we be together.”

“But. . .how did you get here?” I asked.

“At night, when the guards were asleep, I crept out of my window and rode my horse to this mountain. It was the highest one, and it was here that I knew I would find you.”

“But why, Seline? You should not be here. Your father will miss you and I cannot love you the way I desire.”

She began to press herself in my arms, resting her head on my chest and gently caressing her fingers against my worn, rough face, “but why? Do you not want me? Do you not love me?”

I pushed her away, “NO! You cannot understand the way I feel for you- the way. . . .the way I love you.”

She tried to coerce me again, “show me!” she said.

I turned away. “I already have. It is not in the flesh and so, you have not seen it. You are blind to it. And I cannot take you. . .I will not take you like a whore. If I could be. . . .if I could be your husband. But it is law. I cannot marry you without your father’s permission.”

“Why. . .why are you crying? Men. . .men don’t cry,” she said softly.

I touched her cheek, “this one does. Tonight, you may rest here. But in the morning, I will take you back to the King.”

That night, I made a fire and hunted us something to eat. While we sat around the flame, under the starry sky, Seline and I began to talk. “What’s it like being a god?” she asked.

“It’s not so different than being a man. Except. . .it’s very lonely.”

“Isn’t wonderful, to be able to lift anything and be stabbed by knives and things and not be killed?”

I lifted my hand in the air and let a bolt of lightning come down from the sky. “And what would I lift? If I could live forever, what would I do?”

“Do you. . .do you get bored, up here?” she asked.

“Yes, but tell me, what’s it like being a princess?”

“I think. . .I think it’s very awful. My father. . .he locks me in my room and doesn’t let me go out. He’s afraid that I’ll get pregnant with some boy or that I’ll be raped or something. I can’t go anywhere or do anything, without mobs of people wanting to look at you and kiss you and fondle you, and tell you how pretty you are and how they would like to live in the palace. And I have no friends. So many say they are my friends, but they don’t really care about me. They don’t see the person inside. All they see and all they care of is my father’s wealth. Of course everyone wants to marry me, I’m the princess!”

“I understand how you feel. It’s horrible that your father locks you in. Such a beautiful creature should not be kept locked up. She should be free to roam wild, to do what she wants and go where she pleases. I hope that the person you marry gives you greater freedom than your father.”

Seline frowned, and said quietly, “no. I fear whoever I will marry. The men below are not like you. They are not gentle and kind. They don’t think of women as people, but as pieces of meat, meat to be enjoyed. And when they are bored of you, they keep you to do work. My husband will marry me for my riches, and then force me into cooking and cleaning and staying home. If he doesn’t like what food I serve or if the palace is unclean, he will beat me.”

“No. . .don’t say such things.”

“It’s true. I know. All the wives I’ve known get beaten. Astymeloisa, the maid servant who lives in the palace, has a husband who is in the army. Every night he comes home late, after whoring around with other women, and then he is drunk and beats her. I find her every day with new bruises and scars, but she says they are nothing, that she hit her head on a table by accident. But I know better. Rather would I die than be married to any man. Any man, that is, but you.”

“I’m sorry. . . I wish that I could do something.”

“Please, let’s change the subject.”

“What should we talk about?”

“Tell me anything. Just speak to me.”

“You know, in the light of the fire, your eyes sparkle like the stars.”           Seline looked up, brushing her hair, and said, “tell me about the stars.”

I pointed up to three stars that were aligned in the heavens and asked, “do you see those three? Those stars are really a belt, and if you look around them, you can see the shape of a person, can you not?”

“Yes! . .I never noticed that before.”

“Well, that is Orion. He was a great hunter. And he was very handsome.

One day, while he was out hunting with his pack of dogs, he was seen by the Goddess of the Hunt, Artemia. Though Artemia is a devout virgin, she fell in love with him. However, Apollo, the brother of Artemia, became jealous of Orion. And so, Apollo schemed to be rid of him.

One day, when Artemia was swimming out in the ocean, Apollo came to her and challenged her hunting skill, saying that she was unable to shoot a far off bird that flew over the water, with her bow and arrow. Well, Artemia became very angry, and she took her bow and did shoot down the bird. However, as she approached closer to see what she had shot down, she realized that the bird she had killed was not a bird at all, but in fact, that it was her loved one, Orion. Well, when mighty Zeus, God of the Heavens, saw how grief stricken she had become, he came down to earth to take Orion’s body, putting him in the sky to remain forever as a constellation.”

After telling the tale, I looked and saw that Seline had fallen fast asleep. I shivered, feeling a gust of cold wind come in from the West. I stood up and looked for something warm that could be used as a blanket. It was then that I found my horse, Thunderfoot, and saw that on his back he wore a sheep skin saddle. And so, I took the sheep skin saddle from him and walking over to where Seline slept, did drop the blanket over her, whispering, “good night, sweet princess.” Making sure she was tucked in tight, I crawled to a nearby boulder, trying as best I could to keep myself warm.

 

I woke early the next morning. I didn’t sleep well; for I was plagued with strange nightmares. I fought the demi-god, Phobos, and lost.

Placing Seline on Thunderfoot, I began making my way down the mountain toward the King. Then, as we were descending, Seline cried out, saying, “what is that!?”

I looked to where she was pointing, seeing down below, at the base of the mountain, a swarm of marching men. “It is the King!” I cried.

Seline looked at me, terrified, “he brought the entire army!”

I separated from her, “stay here, I’ll handle this.”

“No, I can tell them to stop. It’s me that he wants. Let me go alone, so that they do not hurt you.”

“It doesn’t matter. The King thinks I have stolen you, and for such a crime, he will not let me live. I must face him, or forever run and be in hiding.”

 

I went down to meet the army. The soldiers stopped in front of me, armed with swords and shields and wearing helmets. One of them stepped forward and said, “where have you hidden the princess?”

“She is safe. I will return her to the King if you do not attack me.” “Silence, swine! You are in no position to make demands. We shall find the princess and then slaughter you!”

“Do you know who I am!? I am a god! I, in fact, have not kidnapped the princess. But, if you wish to meet your fate, step closer.”

“Ha! you are no more a god than I. You are but a man who knows nothing but to rape and force women, for you could never know love like a man with a wife, like I, with my Astymeloisa.”

“Bastard! Die!” I screamed, and thrust my sword through his gut. He dropped over dead. When the other soldiers saw what happened, without having heard what was spoken, they rushed in and attacked, thinking that I had initiated the battle through a blatant and impudent act of violence. Without thought, I became a raving mad man, rushing into battle with my bloody sword. The army fell around me and swung their weapons to strike me dead. I blocked and parried their futile blows and struck back with such force, that no shield, sword or helm could save their lives. I created a circle of death, and any who came within striking distance of me did I slay. All at once, they charged toward me, but I hacked them down like long stemmed weeds, cutting through and killing three or four with each blow. Others tried to stab me through the back, but I was too fast for them and too conscious of my surroundings. Using the skills I had learned in the Far East, I did fight with both hands and both feet. Those behind me felt the force of my kicking blows, which shattered their armor and broke their bones. Those in front of me felt the cutting edge of my swirling blade. Those beside me felt my fists of rage. And though I was great in might, their numbers overwhelmed me, and soon, I began to feel the slings and gashes of many blades cut into me, those which I did not see or could not catch. After dropping hordes of men, I grew weary at my blood loss, and fell back in retreat. As my blood cooled and my savage madness left me, I realized, that, I was fighting Greek soldiers, the same people who I had sworn to protect. Then, I felt my weakness, and did run to find my horse.

I reached, Thunderfoot, finding Seline sitting upon him. She looked at me in shock, and upon seeing her, did I lose all my strength and drop to the ground. Seline fell to my side, so that her long blonde hair dipped into my blood. “Oh, God! Dynotus, you’re. . .you’re dying!”

I reached up to touch her face, already seeing the tears welling in her eyes. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have fallen in love. God’s do not fall in love the way I fell in love with you.”

“But. . .they hurt you. They made you bleed. You are not a god. You are a man.

When you climbed upon the ledge to save me, you risked your life. You could have died. Why did you do that? Why did you risk your life for me, if you knew that you could not even marry me?”

“I would give my life for you. This is what I’d do, this is how I love you.”

“Now, I understand. I know now what you feel for me.”

“I wish that I could live, just to be with you. But it is better to die, if I am to live without you.”

“But you won’t die. Your wounds are not that severe.”

“No, but the rest of the Greek army is coming and they come to kill me.”

“Can’t you run?” she asked.

“No, I cannot run forever.”

“Run, run and come back to fight another day.”

“I cannot fight the Greek army. I am and will always be Greek, and I have sworn my life to protect the Greek people. I cannot fight my own people. It would be a sin to bear far worse than any simple death.”

“No! I will not let them harm you!” she cried.

When Seline turned around, she saw a legion of men standing before her. One of the soldiers approached, and taking off his helmet, bowed and said, “princess, thank Zeus that you are safe.”

“Get away! Do not harm this man!”

“But, princess, he raped and kidnapped you!”

“He did not kidnap me! I came here on my own. Nor did he ever lay a finger on me. He is the kindest, most loving soul I have ever known. You shall not touch him!”

The soldier lifted his sword, “he may have not kidnapped you or raped you, but he did kill Astymeloisa’s husband and many other good men. He must be put to death!”

“Astymeloisa’s husband deserved it, the bastard! And well, as for the other men, they’re all bastards too!”

“Move aside, princess!” he ordered.

“No! I will not! If you want to kill him, your sword will have to go through me!”

“Please, Seline, do not endanger yourself,” I said.

She knelt down beside me, “but. . .but I love you.”

And her tears washed away my wounds and cleaned my bloody scars and I said, “all right. For you, I will run.”

I stood and pointed my sword at the leader of the army. “Do you wish to fight again!? Maybe your men will take me down, but I shall take more with me, and surely you shall not survive. Order them back, or I will kill you!”

He looked down at the sharpness of my magic blade and said, “all right. Give us the princess and you can go.”

“Only under one condition,” I replied.

Both Seline and the soldier looked at me in surprise, “what condition?” he asked.

“You must swear. You must make an oath that you will do what I ask. Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

“You must promise to let her be free, to go where she wants, when she wants, and to never keep her locked in her room again. Also, when she gets married, it will be your responsibility to be sure that she is never beaten by her husband, and if she is, I will come find you and kill you myself.”

Suddenly, a voice called from the distance, “no need for that!”

The three of us turned. “Father!” Seline proclaimed.

“King!” said the soldier and bowed.

“Demaratus! It is good that you are here, so that I may give these demands to you myself.”

The King leaped off his horse and everyone, save for Seline and myself, knelt and bowed. “There will be no need for these demands, if you can carry them out yourself.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked.

“I have decided that you may marry my daughter, if, you bring back to me, to be used as a wedding wreath, the Crown of Kirce.”

Then, I realized that the King, indeed, wished me dead. For he still believed me to have kidnapped his daughter, and feared that, if I were to escape alive, would return to kidnap her again. Thus, he wished me to find the Crown of Kirce, an artifact almost impossible to find, every hero having tried also having died, hoping that I, too, would seek it and not return. And though I knew that I could run and never be caught, I loved Seline so much, that I was willing to gamble this small chance with my life, in the hope of marriage. First, however, I had to be sure that the King would keep his word.

“And how do I know that you will not lie, as you did the night of the banquet, and not give your blessing?”

“I will swear by the river, Styx, that if you bring me the Crown of Kirce, my daughter shall I give to thee in marriage.”

“None may break that oath, even gods, and not be damned for all eternity. Very well, I shall accept your offer. I will search and find the Crown of Kirce, and return to be wed to Seline.”


 

 

Want the next chapter? Previous chapters? Search the archive here: THE NOMAD

The Nomad: Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This is a love story and an adventure, a modern take on The Odyssey, set in a mythological past where all of the world’s pantheons coexist. It is my first full-length novel, that I wrote in high school, circa 1993. 

The Nomad represents a much younger and less experienced Nick Alimonos, but also, a time when I was more passionate, confident, and brash. If you can get past the warts, I think you’ll find plenty to enjoy. Thank You.


 

Chapter 3

The next morning, I was quick to mount my faithful steed early, so that I would not be mobbed by my many votaries. Like the wind I did travel over land, for my stallion was of sacred and Olympian descent, and no beast or fowl on Earth could match his speed. Like the thundering of Zeus’ chariot wheels did the hooves of Thunderfoot equally quake and move with untiring and unyielding speed. By noon, I had reached the top of my mountain abode, and looked down upon all the land governed by the King.

Climbing to my humble home, I found the serenity and peace I once cherished. And yet, I was unable to meditate or be at peace. I thought, perhaps, I longed for the comfort of a woman’s touch. But I did not. And this baffled me, for as a man of nature, I had no desire for any material thing. I had eaten a good meal and did not thirst. Of the things I owned and valued, my horse and ring, I had both with me. Yet, I felt, that there was something I left behind, and that without it, I would never be whole. Within me there was an emptiness, a piece of my soul that was cold and barren. Deeply disturbed by these emotions, I prayed for a dream to reveal the secret of my longing.

I awakened suddenly that night, having drempt that I was wrestling with the son of Ares, the demi-god, Phobos, and was unable to best him. And then I noticed it, that the walls of my room were as empty and shallow as I. Till the coming of Dawn I lay restless, my feelings turned to torment. It was as though I had never known life nor lived it. I breathed and walked, and yet, felt no more living than the kouros, a man made of stone.

Looking out upon the horizon, I knew my destiny would lead me to the king’s palace, and knew without question, there I would return.

The day was warm and bright, and the chrysanthemums bloomed and the little birds sang, and I knew that Persephone had returned to her mother Demeter from her time spent in the Underworld. As I journeyed to the king’s palace, I chose to take an indirect route, so that I might cross through no village and keep unnoticed in my arrival.

When I saw the palace from afar, I dismounted and left Thunderfoot in a wooded olive grove, then threw my tunic round my shoulders and cautiously approached from the side. In this way, I hoped to find the King, so that I might tell him of my troubles without the knowledge of the old and stodgy oligarchs. As I walked, I came across the royal stables. Here were the charioteers and equestrians from Macedonia who tended to the royal mounts. It was there that I saw Clytemnestra, her rags muddied, clutching the reigns of a large horse upon which a young maiden sat, dressed in a short chiton, her golden tresses swaying in the breeze. At the sight of her, my heart raced, for I knew that it was Seline.

Clytemnestra was instructing the princess on how to ride a horse. Seline, all the while, attempted to balance herself upon the animal riding side-saddle, and as the horse trotted, she looked as if she were about to fall. Finding this amusing, I watched as she was eventually thrown face down into the mud. At first, I thought she might rise with tears or fury. But, to my surprise, she lifted herself with laughter, and seeing this did Clytemnestra laugh also. Seline was not hurt. But her hair, face, and clothes were soiled. After that, Clytemnestra told her that she should bathe immediately, for a princess should never be as filthy as a peasant. But Seline refused to listen and tried to leap upon the horse again. She lost her footing, however, and fell now backward into the mud, and I laughed again. Covered like a hog she arose, chiton sticking to her skin, globs of mud falling from her hair. Undaunted, she attempted to mount the horse, and it was apparent she had succeeded earlier only with the help of her maid servant. Finally, after many failed attempts, she accomplished the task and for several minutes rode free.

With the wind brushing against her she raised her arms defiantely and cried out in triumph. And as I looked, I found myself sharing in her newfound joy. Then suddenly, her bare heel kicked inadvertantly against the animal’s side, and the horse galloped too swiftly for her to control. Unable to halt the beast, she tugged on the reigns managing only to steer it towards the fence.

Immediately, I broke though the wooden boards in my path and leapt onto the field to intercept them. The horse charged blindly against me, but at the final instant before impact, bucked, tossing the loosely seated girl from its back. With my godly strength, I pushed the horse aside, and caught her in my arms. Our eyes met and in hers I saw a spark of remembrance.

“You . . . saved me,” she murmured.

“Those Macedonian breeds can be temperamental at times.”

“Have we met before?” she inquired.

“Yes, I am Dynotus.”

“You were the man I spoke to last night. But if, if you are Dynotus, what are you doing here? I thought you returned to Mount Olympus, to your home amongst the gods?”

I lifted her as I stood, saying, “I do not really live among the gods. Actually, my home is quite near to here, in the Taygetos.”

She smiled and replied, “Could you . . . put me down now, please?”

“But of course,” I studdered, doing as she asked.

“So you don’t live on Mount Olympus with Zeus and Athena?”

“No, Seline, I am not a god. I am only a man.”

“My father told me of your modesty. I am grateful that you came to help. Thank you.”

Then, I looked into her glimmering eyes and fell speechless. Being the son of Zeus, I could take anything from anyone. But, in the same instance, this made me feel apart from humanity.

“You really should go and clean yourself,” I said at last.

She blushed. “Yes, I should.”

As she strolled back to Clytemnestra, I called out, “If you like, I have a beautiful horse. He can take you to a river nearby and you can bathe there.”

She turned to look at me, combing a dirt stained lock from her eyes. “I adore horses! But they do not seem to share the same fondness for me. Is he gentle?”

I cupped her hands in my own. “As gentle as you, fair princess.”

“Yes, I would like to see him.”

I then whistled loudly and summoned the mighty Thunderfoot. Seline looked at him in awe. “He is so beautiful. His mane is so soft and white. I have seen no horse his equal. May I ride him?”

“If you wish,” said I, picking her up by the waist and gently placing her on its back. It was then that I realized, no man or woman had ridden my horse but I, and it was strange for Thunderfoot was a divine animal, a gift from Zeus, and would not lend himself to mortal hands, or so I thought.

“Do you wish to see the river now?”

“Oh no! I dare not!”

“But why?”

“She knows her place!” said Clytemnestra, accosting them suddenly. “The princess is not allowed to leave the palace grounds unless escorted by her father.”

“But Klea!” Seline objected, pouting, “He saved my life! Surely I’ll be in safe hands, with him. He is the son of Zeus, after all!”

“Well,” said the maid, “I don’t know about this. I’ll have to go ask your father.”

“Go ask and we’ll wait for you here.”

When Clytemnestra was far off, Seline turned to me with a devious grin, saying, “All right, let’s go!”

“But I thought you did not want to . . .”

“That’s just because of Klea. She’s hovers over me like an albatross. I had to wait until we could get away.”

“But your father . . .,” I began.

“Oh, my father is a stuffy old man. He keeps me locked away in the palace night and day! There is so much I don’t know and want to know! I haven’t any idea of the world or of anything in it!”

“Your father is a good friend. I cannot disrespect him.”

“Please, Dynotus, I want to roll in the grass and play in the sea . . . and I want to run naked in the gymnasium like the wives of the hoplites!”

“Seline!” I exclaimed, grabbing her by the ankle, “you are a princess. Such things are not for you.”

“What good is it to be princess then? Everyone envies me, my clothes, my jewelry, the palace where I live, and yet they don’t understand; I live no differently than an outcast, than a prisoner! I want to see other kingdoms, all the ones I’ve heard about: Thebes and Athens, and Olympus! All I know is outside my window, a small part of Sparta. And this must be the most boring place in the world with all the men living in their barracks or off fighting some war. I wish I could live in the barracks too, maybe become a hoplite myself . . .”

“Believe me, you don’t want that. Besides, women are not meant to fight. Your battle is maternity, in giving birth.”

“Did Tyrtaeus write that drivel? What about Athena, she wears armor and a helmet and carries a shield!”

“That’s different. She is a goddess.”

“And Artemis has her bow. Even Aphrodite fought at Ilium in the Trojan War.”

“You know the words of Homer?”

“I memorized the entire epic poem, both the Iliad and the Odyssey. What else is there to do when you are caged in your room like some animal?”

“You’re not like any woman I have ever known . . .,” I murmured softly.

Then she pierced my soul with her eyes, blue as the Aegean and penetrating as a hoplite spear. “Please, Dynotus, we haven’t much time. Once Klea comes back, it will be too late, and I’ll never know a day of freedom.”

 

Seline rode while I walked beside her, leading her to the river. Through a dirt path and over jagged rocks we went, between the olive trees and the eucalyptus. The stream we came to dashed against many layers of jutting stones, and there I helped her to dismount as Thunderfoot began to graze.

“Here we are,” I said. “Skotino, the dark river.”

Seline let her chiton slip off her shoulders and it fell as if loosely fastened, bundling round her ankles. As Spartan women did not wear undergarments, I was forced to look away, out of respect for her and her father. But she responded to me, “Do not be timid. Have you not seen thousands of women before? Do not the Spartan women show their thighs in public, and exercise with the men in the gymnasium as Lykourgos decreed to ‘produce in us habits of simplicity and an ardent desire for health and beauty of body.’?”

“It is true what Lykourgos said,” I answered. “But you are different, you are the-”

“I know. I am the princess!” she interrupted, wading knee deep into the current.

I spied upon her then as she splashed her sides gently, but her simple beauty did not manifest lust, but rather, a feeling of awe and reverence, an uplifting of my spirit as on the wings of Daedelus.

“Have you brought me here to make love?” she asked bluntly and unabashedely, a strand of hair lain wet across her cheek as she faced me.

“No!” I stammered. “I did not mean to mislead you.”

“Do you not think I’m beautiful?” she asked, river droplets glistening from her skin, revealing herself to me proudly as a sculptor would his korè.

“You are fair as any goddess,” I answered truthfully.

She smiled. “What hubris! But I suppose it’s alright, since your father is Zeus.” And then she pouted. “So then why do you not wish to make love to me?”

“I cannot,” I replied. “You are Demaratus’ daughter. It is forbidden.”

Seline and I parted ways without as much as a kiss. It was not that I did not want her. But in that she was a virgin princess, fornication with me, who was not her husband, would only defile her and make her a whore. Regardless, there was a greater than the pleasures of the flesh. I wished to wake each morning to find her resting in my arms. I yearned to share with her my home and all my life’s experiences. Yet, more than anything, I longed to do something special for her, to give her happiness, and to know that it was I who did so.

Several nights passed and I could not sleep, knowing now what it was that troubled me. One day, as I was gathering pomegranates from my garden, tortured by the icon of a bathing Seline as if stamped like a drachmae under my eyelids, a Muse took pity and gifted me with inspiration. Hence, I summoned my steed and rode to the port of Gythio where I met with Phoenician traders from Biblos. And from them I purchased sheets of papyrus and ink for writing.

For Seline I did compose a letter, the words being those of the Muse but with feelings my own, for I had little knowledge of writing. Then in the moonlight I crept along her balcony window and left the letter there for her to find. When she awoke the next morning, she stepped out on to the ledge and found a flower and a scroll. Curious, she lifted the flower to her nose and opened the scroll, which read thus:

 

With how melting a glance does she look towards me, more

Tender than sleep and death; nor are such sweets idly

proffered. But Seline answers me not, but wearing her

garland like some bright star shooting across the sky or golden

sprout or soft plume she strides with feet outstretched . . .

grace sits on the maiden’s tresses . . .

Were she but to look at me . . .

coming close to hold me with her soft hand, quickly

would I become her suppliant

 

After this, I returned one night to gaze at Seline’s empty balcony. Even in that darkest hour I found her, standing with candle in hand. And she called to me, “Dynotus, how I cherished what you wrote and read it if not a thousand times!”

“Seline, how do I find you not in dreams at this hour, when even satyrs pause their reveling to slumber?”

“Oh, but I dared not sleep for hope that you might come again unto my windowsill and this time catch you in an act of love.”

“And how do you know that it was I who sent you such doting words? Would any man be so foolish as to open his heart to a woman, to reveal his very essence and remain unshielded, like a naked breast against a spear point?”

She cast me a mischievious smile. “I did not say that they were doting words, Dynotus.”

“Then it is true that I am but the deliverer of the scroll. But the words belong to the Muses.”

“Do not the Muses come when they are summoned? Summoned by the yearning and aching of men’s hearts?”

“Tell me. Do you patrol your bedroom like a centurion watching for a thief? Is it passion that keeps you awake, or is it fear?”

“It is both. The passion that churns for you and the fear that you might not come again.”

“Then I pray this churning continue so that passion might thicken and become . . . love.”

“Dynotus, will you ask my father to marry us? I cannot know joy without you. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t live without you. The day you caught me in your arms, I knew that I would be your wife some day.”

“Should your father give me his blessing, I will marry you. Till then, pray to Aphrodite.”

“But no, Aphrodite is for love, and Hera for marriage.”

“But what is marriage without love? We should ask for both.”

“No, Dynotus! You are the son of Zeus. And Hera, his wife and goddess of marriage, despises all Zeus’ sons that are not her own. Your mother was Alcmena, a mortal woman, was she not?”

“Then praying to her will be of no use. Let us venerate Aphrodite, and that which Pandora’s Box did not release.”

“And what is that?”

“Hope.”

 

And so there I slept beneath her balcony, and when Dawn rose I did wake and enter the palace. There I sought the King, and found him on his throne. As always, Demaratus was delighted to see me. He greeted me warmly and asked, “Dynotus, my friend, what brings you here?”

Now, I was filled with fear, and kneeling before him did reply, “I have come to tell you my wish, that which you granted me the night of the banquet last.”

“Excellent!” he replied. “And for what have you decided to ask?”

“It is the one thing, the one thing that shall give me joy and happiness all the days of my life. I implore you, do not deny me this one wish!”

Demaratus laughed. “This is quite unlike you, Dynotus! Do not hesitate. Whatever you desire, I shall gladly grant. Do not fret.”

“I humbly request your daughter’s hand, your daughter, Seline.”

The King sat stunned for a moment, and then his smile turned to an angry scowl and his face pale and aged “. . . my daughter? You wish for my one and only daughter? She is the only person, the only thing left in this world that I love. Of all the women you have defiled, the only virgin, the only thing I know that is young and pure, all that I have left in the world that you have not spoiled! No! I will never allow your lecherous hands take from me my daughter! As if you could not go and satisfy yourself with all the whores in the village, you would dare come here and rape my precious Seline and make her one of them! I say never! You will see my death before your limb shall ever know the love of my young and innocent daughter! Go now and ravage a pig to satiate your appetite, and may I never suffer the sight of you within my hall again!”


 

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The Ride of Amalthea

I haven’t been posting much lately, as I’ve been taking a mental hiatus, a detour into the world of Aenya. Who needs DMT when you’ve got the writer’s disease? More to the point, I am finishing up on the last two chapters of The Princess of Aenya. 

During my sabbatical, I am reminded of something I have long known and advocated: social media can be a dangerous narcotic. It’s quite a high, getting an immediate response to something you’ve written. But the path to literary greatness is narrow and paved with seductions, and it is a path one must often travel alone. It takes a great deal of willpower to ignore the allure of fan-fiction and pop culture blogging and sensationalist click-baiting, to reach that higher plateau, to achieve something that will someday mean something. I imagine Tolkien had to deal with something similar, hammering away at the Silmarillion as fads came and went, the Beatles and Woodstock and the moon landing, and he alone at his desk with his pen and his elves.

This is why I can’t be bothered to write more naturist articles, or anything Star Wars related. Sure, I’ll get a thousand likes, but when all is said and done, what does it really amount to? Who will remember Gangnam Style for the great song it is?

And so, in the spirit of true art, I would like to share with you this work made by someone very special to me. It won’t get reblogged much, or published in any magazines, but I’d sooner move a single person with a meaningful story than win a thousand followers with something trite and inane.

Unicorn

Amalthea the Unicorn

Now, when it comes to unicorns, there is only one source one needs go to, and that is Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn. For Beagle, the unicorn is an immortal creature, a divine animal among animals. It is also symbolic of innocence and purity, two things very dear to me.

In his novel, the unicorn is transformed through a mishap of magic into a human princess. She is called Amalthea. My latest book, The Princess of Aenya, pays homage to this fantasy masterpiece, calling Radia’s unicorn by the same name. And, just as in The Last Unicorn, my Amalthea is far more than simply a horned horse. Is she, maybe, the same character? Due to copyright reasons, I may never quite be able to answer that. However, in the book, I suggest that unicorns have the power to travel anywhere, through time and space and even multiple universes. When it comes to unicorns, anything is possible!

This is also, I am proud to say, my first novel/art collaboration, with a very special artist I know, who simply goes by J.A.A. Who is this person? I cannot say outright, but long-time readers should be able to figure it out!