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Trojan Hero & Prince Of Troy

Trojan Hero & Prince Of Troy

Hektor – Trojan Hero & Prince Of Troy

A Bronze Age Romance Novel

© Written and Published by Amarissa Amber Cale

© Copyright 2015 Amarissa Amber Cale

 

3,200 years ago there existed a nation of Trojan people. After eleven years of research, and reading about the war that annihilated their race, I decided to breathe life where it did not exist before. Through my own desire to know more about these people, I have come to the conclusion that the only way to know more is to imagine how they may have lived.Trojan 1

I have researched enough to know what they ate, who their trade relations and allies were, as well as what they wore, and how fiercely they loved. Dedication to family, country and their religion was utmost important to this pious race of people.

What I have taken the last seven years to write is what I see in my own imagination as the way Trojans lived – and loved. Historical romance has always been my passion, and I want to take you on the same journeys I have been on and loved for so long.

The Beginning commences with two main characters, to whom I have given their own views and voices. It is how they met and fell in love. A tragedy separates the young lovers and the hero, Hektôr, must save his best friend and future wife, Andromakhé, or die in trying to rescue her. What was love and dedication 3,200 years before we were born? Will love have a happy conclusion? Find out in the first saga of many more to come.

Amarissa Amber Cale – Author:

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Excerpt:

“I can climb the ladder by myself, Dryops.  Leave me alone.”

I was not going to allow any of my brothers to put me on a ship that would whisk me from my home and the people I loved.  Before I left, I went to see mother to say goodbye and beg her promise she would send for me the moment she could.

Staring out over the Aegean Sea, my eyes filled with tears, for the unknown and the unshakable feeling I would never return to my beloved Thebe.  Podes came to stand behind me in awkward silence.

When he gently put his hands on my shoulders, I turned and fell into his chest, my body wracked with painful sobs.

“Andromakhé, this is not forever.  You must understand father and the rest of us only want what is best for you.”

I wept piteously at my brother’s paternal tone and comforting embrace.  Whom would I have to turn to in Troy, when I felt small and lonely like an orphaned whelp in the wooded knolls?

The rest of the voyage was no more encouraging.  The spring sea was choppy from the continuous rains and roaring winds.  Our journey had taken four nights longer than expected.  We stopped to camp for a night on an island my brother told me was called Tenedos Isle.

I did not want to set sail the next morn.  The Isle was enchanting, and Troy was now within sight, barely visible through the lingering fog and mist.  The natural beauty of the land was mesmerizing.  Wishing to linger as long as possible on this earthen marvel, I strolled along the halcyon shores while my brothers prepared to lift anchor.

The sand was warm between my toes, glittering like golden liquid, washing slowly in and out of the frothy waves.  The grass was deep and lush, and the droplets of dew shimmered like brilliant stars from the wild emerald blades.  Bounteous fields unveiled flowers arrayed in a multitude of soft cherry and rosy corals sprinkled with dabs of violet and crimson, delivered a fragrant pleasantness in the dewy aurora.  Tenedos Isle was an affecting vision with the ability to heal one’s yearning soul.

“Andromakhé!”

’Twas time to face my future.  A breathless Podes found my haven sooner than I would have wanted.

“Andromakhé, we must go now, King Priam’s sentinels have espied our ship.  They know our royal banner and have no doubt sent for King Priam already.  We can trifle no longer.”

His words stung, partly because I did not wish to leave, but more so because I did not wish to be reminded I had no choice.  I nearly stomped as I marched past my irritating brother to board our ship for the last of my journey to the stronghold from Hades.

Watching those imposing walls grow closer I was astounded.  They were not black and certainly not menacing.  Rather they were a pale golden-brown with ramparts and walkways wide enough for a chariot at their peaks.  The towers were enormous, as my brothers had claimed, and two of those massive towers jutted out from the walls on either side of the lofty gate that fronted the sea.  Troy was majestic.

My bullheaded brothers had me believing I was going to somewhere akin to Tartarus.  Brothers were mean and untruthful.  I would show them.  I may not want to be in Troy, but I did not wish to be on the same vessel as they were.

I espied him immediately, the one they called Prince Hektôr.  Right then, he was conceivably my best ally.  Of the royal court awaiting our arrival on the looming hill beyond the harbor, he was the only one close to my age.

Aenius was right about one thing; the young prince did not appear as though he smiled often.  Although I was still aboard the ship, I could see him clearly.  Habilimented in formal robes, he stood poised regally beside his chariot.  Indeed, he was an intent young man.

Nonetheless, I would be nice to him.  Only to him.  My thoughts were interrupted by the grinding and jarring of the ship’s hull scraping the pier, marking our official arrival in the Trojan harbor.

I headed to the foredeck so I could descend the rope ladder ahead of my brothers, who were too busy securing the ship to notice my hasty departure.  Or ’twas what I thought before I overheard Dryops alerting Podes of my attempted escape from their controlling prehends.  Dryops was worse than my nurses for prattling.

“Andromakhé, come here this instant.  You need to wait until the plank is set out.”  Podes demanded, and rather rudely.

Realizing I was on the wrong side of the deck, I rushed as swiftly as pride would allow past my incensed brother to reach the other taffrail and sea ladder.  The labyrinth the Trojans called a harbor ran the entire circumference of the bay.  Did Trojans build anything that was not monolithic?

“Andromakhé, you are not making a good impression on King Priam and his sons.”  Podes hissed at me as I eluded him and began my descent.

I paused long enough to fire back, “Did I fail to mention my plans did not include seeking to impress anyone whilst I must live here – in exile?”

Safely on the pier, I straightened my robes and hair the best I could manage, and continued with my agenda, which did not include speaking to my brothers.

I encountered King Priam’s chariot first, and giving his kingship an abrupt nod, I whisked past his outstretched hand, and paraded straight to his sullen heir’s chariot.

My first meeting with the Trojan heir was unforgettable.  In my haste to put as much distance between my overbearing brothers and myself as I could, I gave little more consideration to the prince until his hand was thrust out before me.  Without a word, I accepted the young man’s help into his chariot.

Snatching the harnesses, I inquired of the prince, who had yet to climb into the carriage, “Are you going to stand there all day, or shall I find my own way?”

Once he was seated beside me, I gazed at the young Trojan, certain I was mistaken about which of the king’s sons he was.  He made it clear he knew whom I was.

“Is something wrong princess?”

I tried not to show my irritation at being called princess, needing to ensure I had at least one friend in this strange land.

“My name is Andromakhé.  Are you … Hektôr?”

For my absurd question, I received a disarming smile, and a polite nod.

“Prince Hektôr, son of King Priam of Wilusa, and apparently your charioteer for the ascent to the city.”

I was thunderstruck.  Hektôr was not, by any stretch, what I expected.  “I thought you were only a few winters older than me.  I must apologize for staring, ’twas not ladylike.”

I felt the color rising from my neck to burn hotly at my cheeks.  I was further embarrassed to realize I still held onto the reins when patiently, the prince asked, “Do you know which mule trail you prefer to follow?”

I did not raise my eyes from the chariot floor when I handed the harness to the affable lad next to me.

“I ride a great deal at home, and I suppose ’tis a habit.  Please accept my apology.”

The reminder of home elicited pangs of sorrow and desolation.  Taking the harness, Hektôr surprised me when he asked, “Andromakhé, would you like to ride with me sometimes?”

I snapped my head up to meet his gaze, desperate to believe he meant it.

“You would not mind?  My brothers hate it when I ask to ride with them, so I usually ride alone.”

This time, he laughed aloud.  ’Twas a rich melodious timbre.

“And I have never met a female who would consider riding with me.  ’Twould be an honor were you to grace me with your company, Andromakhé.”

Tears quickly stung my eyes, though not from sadness, rather from the kindness of this gentle stranger.

“Thank you Hektôr.”

“’Tis my pleasure, my lady.”

In the next instant, when our eyes locked, I felt a surge of emotion and warmth, and an unexpected sense of belonging.

Once we were on our way, I had to ask, “Hektôr, how old are you?”

He chuckled, and responded lightly, “Fifteen winters, though I was born in the latter half of spring.  And you?”

Astonished, I forgot his question before he finished asking it.

“Pardon me for saying so, but you are positively the biggest lad of fifteen winters I have ever met.”

Hektôr explained, “I believe ’tis a family characteristic.  My brothers and cousins are of fair height, as are my father and uncles.  You are twelve winters, correct?”

“Yes,” I answered, wondering what my age had to do with his size.

“I have one brother, Helenus, who is one winter older than you, and although he was born a twin, he is close to my size.”

This I found astounding, I knew twins were smaller than most, not larger.

“You have a unique family, Hektôr.”

Peering back to make sure no one else could hear me; I asked Hektôr something I thought others might laugh at.

“Hektôr, is it true your father has nearly fifty children?”

“He now has fifty-two.  Mother recently blessed our family with another daughter, Laodice.  One of father’s concubines also had twins just before my infant sister’s birth.”

So my brothers were truthful about at least some things where Troy was concerned.

“That is unbelievable.  You know, I have often wondered what ’twould be like to have younger siblings.  Father does not have concubines though, and mother has been ill most of my life, so I am the last child of King Eëtion.”

Hektôr seemed surprised by this.  “Why does your father not have concubines?  I thought most kings and princes had at least a few.”

’Twas my turn to laugh.  “Mother would carve my father into bits were she to find him with a concubine.  Besides, father adores my mother, and only her.”

I thought Hektôr would be uncomfortable with this conversation, but as I would learn later, he always spoke from his heart.

“I agree with your father’s beliefs; how can a man devote himself to many women?  If he were content with one woman, and loved her unconditionally, should that not be enough for him?”

“I like the way you think, Prince Hektôr.  I imagine we shall become good friends.”

As we approached the city, I found myself speechless.  Troy was without argument, the most beautiful fortress in all of Asia Minor.  The city unfolded boundlessly over the vast plains; beetling above the fertile land like an intemperate eagle in her nest, a watchful guardian over Her Trojan landscape.  The lower settlement extended far to the South and East, where hundreds of beautifully built dwellings housed the citizens of the sacred city.

 

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