Moon of the Goddess

By Cathy Hird

Frightened by a nightmare, pampered princess Thalassai awakens to real danger: she has been kidnapped. Fear grows to terror when she realizes her captors will use her as a pawn to gain Poseidon’s aid for their valley. Aided by a defiant mother goddess, will she find strength to stand up to this fate?

When Thalassai's brother Melanion races to rescue her, he meets servants of the mother goddess. Their aid speeds him north, but when he is slowed by bandits he must risk a dangerous tunnel under the mountain range. Will he be in time?

Set in the days of Helen of Troy and the great heroes of Greece, this story takes the reader on a fast paced journey across the sun-drenched landscape of Homer and deep into the darkness at the edge of Hades' kingdom.
Praise for Moon of the Goddess:
"Thalassai and Melanion feel like real people who lived and died in Ancient Greece, rather than words on a page." NerdEmp

"The siblings are tested in ways they never dreamed, form bonds with unexpected allies, and come to see their turbulent world with new eyes." In the Hills

"The prince and the others on the odyssey have their limits put to the test, which always gives a sense of mystery and endurance that come with the best books. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I did." TeenLitPicks

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cathy Hird
• Release date: Mar 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9780995893108

Cathy Hird

Cathy Hird lives in a forest on the shore of Georgian Bay. Cathy weaves tapestries and scarves, and she tells stories that pull together the threads of ancient myth and modern questions.Cathy has published novels, stories, poems, and creative non-fiction pieces. She writes a weekly column for an online news magazine, owensoundhub.org. She is an avid reader who loves to discover new authors and the worlds they build.Along with her first two novels set in ancient Greece, Cathy has also written a contemporary fantasy trilogy that draws on Celtic mythology and Arthurian legends. Unseen, her near future Sci/Fi fantasy novel set in Toronto, is her first crossover novel with Sci/Fi and fantasy elements.

Book preview

Before dawn the day of the full moon

Thalassai floated in a small boat among fragrant lilies. She reached out to touch one of the delicate white blossoms and saw the reflection of her face on the mirror-like water of the pond. One strand of hair had escaped her braid. She pushed it back, then trailed slender fingers through the sun-warmed water. The ripples grew, and the pond became a river. Water tumbled around a rock, making the boat bounce. She grabbed for the gunwale and could not reach it. The boat tilted sideways, threatening to throw her into the now-rushing river. Water poured over her face, filling her nose and choking her. She awoke.

Diakonia, I just had the worst dream, she said to her maid as she opened her eyes. Darkness pressed down on her.

Thalassai pinched her eyes closed. She must still be dreaming. The lamp could not have gone out. She counted to five, extending one tight finger after another, working to control the panic that crept into her throat. The lamp is burning, and Diakonia is still sleeping, she whispered. She opened her eyes. Darkness enveloped her like a blanket. She raised her hand to her face to push the dark away. She struggled to breathe.

Diakonia, the oil, Thalassai whispered. You let it run out. Come! There was no answer from her maid. She moved to sit up, and her head swirled. Thalassai lay back and waited for the spinning to stop. Her chest heaved as she drew quick breaths. Too quick. She would faint if she kept this up. She strained to see the shape of the lamp, the chest by the wall of her room, something. Diakonia, she called, trying to push her voice through the impenetrable darkness.

Thalassai told herself she was too old for this, that the darkness would not smother her. She tried to draw in air slowly, but her throat seized. She needed help just as she had when she was small. She could recite the litany her nurse had taught her so many years before to calm her fear. She did not need to panic.

With each breath in, I lift the night away with my chest. Now, I blow the darkness away with my breath. Thalassai felt tears running across her temples. Again, I push the dark away with my chest, then with my outgoing breath. She forced herself to continue. The dark will not smother me. I will breathe in and with the air; I take in a piece of darkness and make it part of me.

Thalassai did not want the darkness inside of her. She held her breath. Nurse used to remind her that she could not do that for long. Soon, she would have to breathe, let in the dark. I am an adult now. I am not afraid of the dark, she whispered. She did not believe her own words.

So taste the dark; see what it teaches you. It was her brother Melanion, who had told her that. Her brother always told her she was stronger than she thought.

More tears fell, wetting her cheeks. She opened her mouth to taste the air. There was a hint of salt, like the sea she was named after, but this salt came from her fear-filled tears. That did not help, she whispered to her brother who was not there. I already knew I was afraid.

Melanion would laugh if she said that. He would tell her a story about something fearful he had faced. Even you, Thalassai, facing such a moment, you would discover strength and courage, he had said so many times. Thalassai held on to the picture of her brother laughing beside her bed. She would be strong. She would figure out what had gone wrong with the lamp. She pulled herself to a sitting position and curled her legs beneath her.

Little lights swirled in front of her eyes. Her head spun, and the bed seemed to move up and down like the boat in the dream. She put her hands down to steady herself and pulled them back as if they burned. This could not be. These were not the silken sheets of her bed! She reached down with her right hand. The bed linens were rough like the ones on the ship when she traveled with her father to visit Athens and Corinth. But she was in the palace at Tiryns, wasn’t she?

Diakonia, she whispered, though she knew now that her maid could not hear her. She placed her hands on her lap so she would not have to feel the bedclothes, but she could not escape the gentle up and down, the rocking motion of a ship at anchor. How had she gotten onto a boat?

Thalassai struggled to remember. The splash of river water and the fragrant lilies had been part of the dream. Scented flowers! She had been in the rose garden with Diakonia. She remembered that the visiting prince, Aphoron he was called, had met her there with his servants.

From his first bow, this prince from the distant northern city of Ephyra had openly admired her. He had so disturbed her that she avoided him at the welcome feast, and her father chided her, reminding her of the duty of a princess to host their guests. Because of that lecture, when she met Aphoron in the garden, she agreed to let his party walk with her, though she kept Diakonia between herself and the strangers.

Thalassai dimly heard a voice, muffled by the darkness and perhaps a closed door. The bed jerked forward. Her head swirled again, and she put her fingers on her temples, trying to concentrate. The bed stopped, then jumped again.

Rowing! That was the jerking motion. Rowers were starting their day’s work. Because of the danger of rocks near the shore, ships did not move in the dark of night, so somewhere outside light was coming to the sky. Out there, the sun was rising while darkness trapped her on an unknown ship. Her hands started to shake, and she held them together. She was afraid of more than the darkness now.

Thalassai pushed to remember. She focused her mind on the details of the garden, the color of the roses. Red, white, and a pale yellow. They had moved on to the herb garden, and she remembered the scent of basil when Aphoron stepped off the path. She had pointed out some of the newer herbs, which Melanion had brought home from Mount Pelion, telling him how rare and precious they were, hoping he would keep his feet off them.

Thalassai remembered a bitter scent. The servant had offered her a cup, a drink to try. Aphoron laughed at her refusal, teased her for her nervousness. Diakonia tasted the drink, and then she took the cup. That was the last thing she could remember. Her hands shook harder. There had been a drug in the cup!

A tiny line of light appeared in front of her. She watched it bounce. The line of light became a chink running down the board of a door. Someone was coming.

A tingling began at the back of Thalassai’s mouth, and her throat closed. A shiver ran across the top of her head. Fear was taking over.

Thalassai focused her eyes on the light. The darkness had been broken, but she did not want to be on the bed when the door opened. She felt for the edge and reached her feet toward the floor. The smooth, well-oiled wood felt cool to her bare feet. Her hand reached for the wall, which curved in behind her. She knew now she was in a room built into the rear of a ship like her father’s royal boat. She made her back straight and drew herself as tall as she could.

The door swung back, and Aphoron stepped into the cabin. He hung an oil lamp just inside the door. Finally, you are awake. I began to think you would sleep all the way to Ephyra.

Thalassai took a step backward, her shoulder touching the ship’s planking. She wished she could get farther from him. You will-- Her voice broke, and a smile came to his lips. She lifted her head high. I will return to the palace. She spoke slowly to ensure her voice did not crack again.

Aphoron’s smile grew. And how will you do that, my dear? Your dear city of Tiryns is half a day behind us and getting farther with each stroke of my companions.

Thalassai’s hand went to her throat. I will return to my home.

No. Aphoron folded his arms. I am taking you to my city.

Thalassai stared at his face. His eyes were dark, almost black. The grin that stretched across his lips did not touch his eyes. You can’t, she said.

Oh, I can, and I must. Aphoron looked her over carefully. He laughed when Thalassai moved one bare foot behind the other, wishing she could hide more of herself from his leer. Hair the rich brown of oiled oak and smooth as finely spun thread. Skin like warm honey. Yes, my father will be pleased with you, once we get you a clean linen robe. And your name, Thalassai. Called ‘the sea,’ you were destined for this.

My brother will come to my rescue.

Will he? sneered Aphoron. I will tell both our fathers that you enticed me to take you. Aphoron moved closer. I saw the desire in you.

A lie! A flash of anger lent fire to Thalassai’s eyes.

Now, your eyes are bright. I like that.

Thalassai folded her arms across her chest. My father will believe me. I will never be your wife.

Never is a very, very long time, said Aphoron with a shrug. You are in my hands now. He started toward the door. I will send a man with water, fruit, and bread.

I’m not hungry, said Thalassai, turning away from him.

But you are. The smile left Aphoron’s lips as his chin tightened. Your throat is dry, and your tongue is sticky. Your stomach feels like there is a stone in it - an aftereffect of the drug that allowed me to take you with such ease. His eyes narrowed. I thought your brother would take better care of you, but since he did not, you are mine.

Why hadn’t Melanion protected her? Thalassai swayed and leaned on the bed. She told herself that her father would send ships to get her back. Melanion would come after her. I will not eat your food, and I will not be your wife.

You will eat, or you will feel the lash of my anger. Aphoron removed the lantern from the hook. In its light, his eyes glinted like sun on the blade of a sword. You will learn to obey. He stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The suffocating darkness enveloped her. Don’t leave me in the dark, she whispered as her knees gave way, and she crumpled to the floor.

* * *

The rasping of metal against metal awakened Thalassai. Her legs ached. She rubbed the cramp in her shoulder and remembered where she was. Tears came to her eyes. A rectangle of light opened in front of her, and she looked up at a young sailor standing in the open doorway. She pulled herself to her feet. Her leg gave way, and she supported herself on the bed. The sailor stepped back, and Thalassai leaned toward the light.

A man stepped past the sailor, carrying a basket and a jug. Thalassai recognized him and froze. He had been with Aphoron in the garden. She did not want to get any closer to him.

You will eat as well as any of us today, he said, setting the basket on the bed. This is your water ration. You need tidying up, but there is no water to spare for washing today. He held the jug out to her.

Thalassai hesitated. Thirst burned her throat, but she did not want to reach even her hand any closer to him. She looked past the two sailors drinking in the pale light of morning. Will you leave the door open when you go? she whispered.

The man stepped closer and extended the narrow-mouthed jug to her. Only if you eat and drink, he said.

Thalassai reached a shaky hand for the jug. It was heavy, and the water in it sloshed with the movement of the boat. She hugged the jug to her chest. The sailor raised his heavy black eyebrows, waiting. She lifted the jug to her lips and tasted warm water. Thirst took over, and she drank. Her throat relaxed, but her stomach churned.

You are learning, he said. Brizo and I have to get back to our benches now, but I’ll know if you have eaten. He put his hand on the door as if to close it. He grinned at the panic on Thalassai’s face. Be good now, he said, leaving the narrow door open.

Thalassai watched the two make their way between the rowers to benches in the middle of the boat. The sailor he had called Brizo looked back but she glanced away. When she looked again, the walkway was empty. She saw the shape of a man standing at the prow, his back to the rowers and to her. Of course, Aphoron would bring enough men with him that he would not have to work the oars.

A sharp pain shot through her stomach. She needed to eat, but she did not want Aphoron to see her if he turned. She picked up the basket and climbed onto the bed. She leaned against the wall and curled her legs beside her. She nibbled a chunk of the bread. It was tough, but edible. She ate one olive, then another. The smooth, salty flesh chased the metal taste from her mouth. She tried the bread again. It was nothing like the light bread baked fresh each day in the palace kitchen at Tiryns. Still, her stomach relished it, and the pain eased.

Thalassai stared at the wooden planking of the ship, wondering what was going to happen to her. She noticed a black stain on the low ceiling in the corner near the door where Aphoron had hung the lamp. So he allowed himself light even though he had kept her in the dark. She drew a ragged breath. Near that spot, a box was built onto the wall. In her father’s ship, it would hold instruments for checking their location. She wondered if there would be a knife in the box. Could she use the knife against Aphoron if he came in to her? She shivered at the thought. She wished she were strong. Curling her legs tighter against her body, she wished she were anywhere but in this cabin. She gazed longingly at the square of light made by the door.

On either side of the door was a wooden figure. She recognized the brightly painted image as Poseidon with his trident, but she did not know the other, which was older, worn, and a woman This northern goddess was not lithe and young like the images of Aphrodite and Athena in the temples of Tiryns. Instead, her hips were wide and her breasts large under a flowing robe. Her hands stretched outward. Thalassai wondered if the open arms offered comfort or reached to trap her as Aphoron had.

Thalassai took the last two olives from the basket. At home, there would have been spring berries and curdled goat’s milk to break her fast. Tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She brushed them aside. My father will send ships after me, she whispered. Melanion will come for me. Tears came faster. When the ships came, she imagined there would be a fight. Men would die. Melanion maybe. Or would Aphoron force himself on her before her brother could reach her?

She shook that thought away and looked to Poseidon. Her father had built a temple for the god of storms and earthshakings. Maybe Poseidon would honor her father and intervene for her. She cringed. The lightening of the storms he sent always frightened her, and she was not sure the god would choose to help her over Aphoron. The servants at the palace had whispered that a sudden storm had sped the two ships from Ephyra into port as if Poseidon himself had guided them to shore.

Thalassai looked to the goddess again. The eyes of the image seemed alive, watching her, beckoning to her. It occurred to her that this unknown goddess would see a poor frightened girl curled up in a corner, would not know she was the daughter of the king of Tiryns.

I am a princess, she told herself, sitting straighter on the bed. Her father expected her to honor their family at all times. She needed to stay strong until Melanion came.

Thalassai drank the rest of the water. She thought the goddess smiled at her, but that was foolish. She brushed tears from her cheeks and realized that her braid had loosened while she slept. This was something she could fix. She undid the tie and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it, releasing the tangles one by one. The task calmed her. It was not much, but she would make a perfect braid. When she was done, she thought, it would be time to pray and ask the goddess to teach her to be strong.

Chapter Two

Afternoon, the day before the full moon

This is the last stream before the pass that leads to your city. Melanion handed the stallion’s reins to his companion, Dermios.

A timely pause in the journey, said Xidantes, the ambassador of Mycenae. He summoned one of the soldiers to balance him as he descended from the lead cart of the trading caravan. While the servants water the donkeys, will you walk apart with me? We can look over the valley and your city. I never fail to appreciate the flat contour of this land where Tiryns holds sway even with the insects that the marshes breed.

Melanion smiled, ignoring the barb in the compliment. Clearly, the ambassador had a message for his ears only. He checked the train of laden carts. Servants were already fetching water for the donkeys. Dermios met his eyes with a shrug, then turned back to one of the Mycenaean guards who had approached to examine the horses.

"There is an excellent view