Moon in the Sign of Aries

By Cathy Hird

Just after dawn, a slave ship from Athens takes over in a remote village, rounding up the women and children and loading them on their ship. What fate doomed this village whose men were taken as slaves just six years earlier!

From the hidden birthing hut, Panacea, daughter of the god of healing, watches, raging, helpless to intervene. Studying the raiders, she recognizes the leader, the rogue prince Aphoron, whose service to Poseidon has already wreaked havoc across the land (as told in Moon of the Goddess and Before the New Moon Rises).

Cursing the Athenians, Panacea takes a small sail boat, and, with one companion, follows the slave ship, determined to free the villagers. Thanks to a message from Panacea's father, Melanion, prince of Tiryns, arrives the same day and learns of the tragic raid. A race begins to catch the slave ship and find a way to release the villagers.

Can the rescuers enlist the aid of other Olympians or will Poseidon win this time, with the villagers doomed to slavery?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cathy Hird
• Release date: Dec 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9780995893191

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.

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Moon in the Sign of Aries

By Cathy Hird

Copyright 2020 © Cathy Hird

Cover by Paul Hird

Second edition published by Cathy Hird at Smashwords, 20

ISBN: 978-0-9958931-9-1 

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of

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This novel a work of fiction. Names, characters, locales, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Geographical locations are identified to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. While the story is inspired by historical events, this is a fictionalized portrayal, and the author created all characters, events, and storylines in the pursuit of literary fiction not historical accuracy.

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Epilogue

Author's Note

In ancient times, it was said that there were as many versions of the Greek myths as there were poets willing to tell the stories. Each telling would put different gods in the center of the stage, highlight different emotions or character traits. The emphasis would shift from jealousy to revenge, redemption to betrayal. The story of the golden ram Aries is a good example.

The ram who became the constellation we call Aries was a son of Poseidon and a princess who had been turned into a sheep to save her from raiders. Aries was beautiful to behold with a fleece of gold and magnificent wings. His life-story intersects with the journey of the children of the king of Boetia, named Phrizus and Helle, because their stepmother, out of jealousy, plotted to have them killed.

The king's first wife, the children's mother, heard of their danger and convinced the ram to rescue them. As a winged steed, he could carry the children into the air and across the sea. Sadly, Helle looked down and became dizzy. She fell from his back and drowned in the waters below.

Some poets who told this tale claimed that the ram had no wings, but with his great strength, he swam across the waters. In this version, the poor girl's long garments became soaked with saltwater, weighing her down and pulling her off the ram's back to drown in the deep. Both versions note that the place where she died is still called by her name, the Hellespont.

Her grieving brother clung to the wool of the ram and made it to the land of Colchis. There, the boy sacrificed the ram, but whether it was offered to Zeus, or to Poseidon, or to Ares, the god of war, the poets disagree. Most concur that its fleece was hung on an oak tree sacred to Ares. All claim that the guarded fleece would eventually be stolen by Jason of Iolkos. His story we will hear later in this book.

I am indebted to the Greek poet Hesiod and his Works and Days for insight into the classical Greek admiration for the competitive spirit. His description of Zeus' gift of striving gave me insight into the lord of Olympus, shaping where this tale begins.

Prologue

In a stone hall with golden floors high on Mount Olympus, Zeus convened a council of gods and goddesses. Before words were spoken, a rich wine was poured for each. Ambrosia was served in golden dishes. Orpheus tuned his lyre and sang of a meadow where scarlet flowers bloomed. As the last notes were carried away on the gentle breeze, Zeus rose to his feet.

A toast. The Lord of Olympus lifted his cup, waited for all to do the same. To Hephaestus and the gift of bronze. This metal you concocted from materials that can be mined in the mountains across this land we oversee shall carry the people into the next era, a time of growth and creation. As we of Olympus strive forward, so the humans will thrive. Stronger cities. Greater temples. More trade to bring wealth from all the shores of the sea to this land. Drink to Hephaestus, God of the Forge.

Across the hall, the gathered Olympians tipped their cups toward Hephaestus, then sipped the red wine. All except Ares. The God of War slowly rose to his feet, then extended his arm, lifting his cup high.

I celebrate this striving, Ares said. With the gift of a new metal, blood will spill like wine. He poured the dark liquid onto the golden floor. You, my friend, have accomplished what I have dreamed: weapons that can defeat any armour. War shall now reign.

Hephaestus spat on the bright paving stones. You are wrong. Strong shields shall turn the spear aside. Armour will blunt the edge of the swords that strike. He nodded to Poseidon, who stood on the opposite side of the gathering. The God of Ocean and Storm knows well how powerful armour can be. Ask him how I assisted the people of Corfu to defeat the shark he set upon them.

Poseidon curled his fingers into a fist. Zeus has yet to rule on your interference. You should pay for the aid you gave the ships of Ephyra.

Hephaestus smiled. All I did was exercise the craft that Zeus praises this day. The thin metal armour I created for the oars and rudders of the ships defeated the destructive teeth of the monster shark. You might turn your anger from me to Artemis, as she led the hunt that killed your creature. He sipped his wine. I am curious why Poseidon is so interested in the lands beyond the Boundary Mountains.

Do not distract from this discussion. Ares lowered his cup for a servant to refill. Good armour makes the game more interesting, for it challenges the skills of the fighter. Your gift strengthens all the arts of battle. In the strife of war, we shall see your power.

My gift will be used to carve stone, making even your temples beautiful. Ground will be opened to receive seed. Weeds cleared that would have choked the crops. Bronze will build and create.

Ares folded his arms, stepped aside as a servant mopped up the blood-red spill on the golden floor. A contest then. We choose a town recently established, gift them with your metal, watch whether they turn to building or to war. Bet what you will on the choice the town will make, and I will win it from you, as I once stole Aphrodite. Ares tipped his cup toward the beautiful goddess of love who lounged on a bench near him.

Hephaestus raised a fist, took a limping step toward the God of War.

Stop! Zeus descended from his throne to the middle of the room. This arguing amongst ourselves is tiresome. The loss of your wife is an old story, Hephaestus. And you have won the enduring love of another divine one. Leave the past. The question raised by Ares is reasonable. Mortals can be swayed. We hope to guide them, but they do not always listen to our wisdom. Testing which direction their competitive spirit will choose is a worthy proposition. He surveyed the divine assembly. Does anyone know of suitable town?

I've just the place, said Apollo and Athena in the same moment.

Half-sister, said Apollo with a smile, we think alike. You would gift Troy with this bronze.

Nay. I think of another town, a place to the west, not east, a fertile port on the long piece of land shaped like a goat's foot. That village, known as Rome, has great potential.

Which shall we choose then?

It is a competition, said Ares. Make the gift to both, and we will see what the places under the protection of the Goddess of War and the God of Wisdom become. If that is acceptable to you, Lord of Olympus.

Zeus climbed the three steps of the dais, sat on his throne, and looked over the gathering, now still and waiting. I will allow this. It is a good test of what humans will strive for, how history will progress. You may begin.

Apollo and Athena bowed to Zeus, and then to each other. When they left, clusters of conversation began. The buzz of interest pleased the Lord of Olympus. This contest between siblings would generate a good energy among the Olympians.

As he examined the gathered gods and goddesses, Zeus noted who had not responded to his invitation for this feast. Some, like Helios, were chained to tasks they could not leave. Others, like the mer-god Triton, seldom left their home environment. But a few had chosen to distance themselves from the mountain.

Asclepius, the God of Healing, for example, had not been to Olympus in more years than there were columns in this hall. It seemed he preferred the company of humans. Zeus shook his head. The daughter he had fathered with a woman of Thessaly had never been properly presented on the mountain. That situation displeased Zeus. He must look for an opportunity to rein in the wayward ones and bring the wanderers home.

The father of the gods noticed that Poseidon stood alone, twirling his cup between his hands, swirling the wine the way wind whips water into a funnel-cloud. A wicked smile came to the lips of the God of Ocean, Storm, and Earthshaking. The eyes of the Lord of Olympus narrowed. Furrows deepened across his brow. Perhaps Artemis was right that I should have curbed Poseidon after that affair in the west. But Artemis had overstepped as well, interfering in another god's activity. Given that she and Hephaestus had used their proper skills and had not gone after Poseidon himself, he had chosen not to chastise them. Now, it seemed the Earthshaker might have another plot ready to release, perhaps encouraged by this contest between Athena and Apollo.

Zeus tapped the marble seat with his fingers. God of the wide, dark ocean, no matter what you think you are owed for the death of your pet shark, you will not interfere in this contest my children have set out to accomplish.

Those who interfere with my plans will pay in time. For the moment, I swear that I will not intrude in the work Athena and Apollo have begun.

Then, busy yourself elsewhere.

Poseidon smiled. I have heard your command. He bowed his head and left.

The Lord of Olympus studied the place where his brother had stood. He sensed a veiled threat in Poseidon's last words. In the last two moons, that god's striving had disturbed the balance of power between several cities, although some alliances had been strengthened and new ones formed. Growth might result, but if Poseidon's own power increased, that could threaten the balance on Olympus.

Zeus folded his hands together. A watcher he needed. He would summon his eagle, send the great, golden bird to watch the storm brewing god. It would be best not to be caught off guard by his brother's plans.

Chapter One

Two days before the full moon

Passing the harpoon from one hand to the other, Aphoron glared at the tool that made him look like a fisherman. Such a disappointing weapon to carry as his introduction to the king of Athens. A scowl drew lines around his eyes, his mouth. Jamming the wooden end into the hard ground of the path, he wished that the god had given him a trident. That would have identified him to the lord of Athens as an honored devotee of Poseidon. Or he could have given me a sword, Aphoron thought. Even a knife would have been better than this accursed fishing tool.

He rubbed the back of his hand over the rough stubble on his chin. With a knife, he could have shaved, made himself look like a man who had resources, more like the prince he was. That thought made him scowl. He was a prince by birth, but he had left home and that position with no intention of going back. He pushed aside the sudden stab of uncertainty. Poseidon did acknowledge him, intend to back him up. And it could have been worse. It could be a fish net he carried. At least this implied he hunted shark, or perhaps the great whales of the ocean waters.

The Earthshaker had assured him the harpoon would gain him an audience with the king. After that, he was on his own to win a place in the city. Glancing at his feet, at the worn leather of his sandals, he could see the cost of every step he had walked since his crew abandoned him. As if the defeat at Tiryns had been his fault. Somehow, the hated prince of that city had found out the plan to capitalize on a weakness built into their wall by a cyclops, another son of Poseidon. May that prince be damned to Hades. Some god must have helped him that Poseidon didn't know about.

That thought he would keep tucked away. The Olympian God of Storm and Earthshaking was not omniscient. He did not know everything or see everything. Which meant that there was no guarantee that the path Aphoron had been pushed to take would lead to success. He banged the butt on the ground again. This time he would make his own way. No more defeats. No more backward steps. It was time to win a place for himself.

The sun was at its zenith when he approached the gate of Athens. Sweat had plastered his curled hair to his head. As guards at the city gate held their lances pointed at his chest, he thought perhaps it had been wise to carry a tool rather than a weapon. Two were designated to take him into the city. As he walked the streets, the points of the two lances touching his back, he felt conspicuous and unkempt. Wishing he had found a way to shave, had stolen decent sandals, all he could do was lift his shoulders, keep his eyes straight ahead, carry the tool given by the god with all the pride he could muster.

In the crowded anteroom, he was directed to be seated on a bench. One of the guards remained, taking a position just behind him. At least, the butt of that man's lance was on the floor. He could almost argue that this was an honor guard, except for the glances that came his way from the other men who waited for an audience with the king.

Hunger caused his stomach to rumble. Thirst made his tongue thick in his mouth. There was no sign of food or drink for those who awaited an audience with the king.

Two merchants were summoned inside. Aphoron shifted on the bench. His legs twitched. He longed to get up and move, but with the guard at his shoulder, lance at the ready, he considered it best to remain seated.

When the merchants left, all in the room turned to the steward who stood in the doorway, attentive to who would be summoned next.

Stranger. Messenger of Poseidon. Come.

With every eye turned toward him, Aphoron rose to his feet, stood tall, and walked slowly to the doorway, aware the guard followed one step behind.

Brightness blinded him as he entered the throne room. He stood blinking. The guard pushed him forward, banging his lance against the back of his legs. Aphoron almost stumbled. As his eyes adjusted, he saw this was not a chamber, but a porch surrounded by pillars, roofed with wood and open to the city. A man stood with his back to the sun, a cup in his hand. Aphoron could not read his shadowed face. He bowed, then raised his head to stand tall.

Tell me why a king who gives allegiance to Athena should receive a messenger from the God of Ocean and Earthshaking.

You have taken a bold step receiving me, King Aegeus. Prosperity and power are within your reach.

Prosperity and power are already mine.

Aphoron swallowed. But a senior god of Olympus holds out his hand to you. There is more for the taking.

What does the Earthshaker offer that the Goddess of War does not?

Aphoron ran through the words Poseidon had instructed him to speak. Athena won the contest for the first king's loyalty, but times change. Her victory holds you back from the role you could have among the cities.

Really? You would have me believe that we could gain over strong Corinth and growing Mycenae? That we can outcompete ambitious Sparta? From your accent I can tell you are a foreigner who knows nothing of the politics here.

But the Earthshaker sees what can be, who you can be. For now, you look over your city from this perch. You could rise higher.

As the king moved into the shadows to sit on his throne, Aphoron saw the strong lines of his nose and chin, read pride in the way he lifted his head.

You may well come from Poseidon, but your words are not enough to sway me. What can you offer?

What do you need? Aphoron pressed his lips together. The god had instructed him to lay that question before the king, but it felt like a chasm in the earth that he could tumble into and never climb out of. How could he give the king anything given his weakened position?

The king stood. You suggest I lack anything given the riches of our city?

Aphoron swallowed. No one, even the Lord of Olympus, has everything he desires.

Aegus' eyes narrowed. "You are